


If Looks Could Kill

by holdencfield



Category: 21 Jump Street (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 40
Words: 69,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdencfield/pseuds/holdencfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Dennis have a fight and one gets into an accident that alters the entire relationship and their lives.<br/>POV in the beginning!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The bowler

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OpenPage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpenPage/gifts).



> My first posted piece. comments are more than welcomed!

Hanson:   
Tom lay there, occupied in his thoughts. The same thoughts that could threaten his sanity if he let them get the best of him. His arms propped behind his head, his legs bent and knees pointing to the ceiling. He said nothing, did nothing. Instead he lied and called in sick. Well, maybe not lied. Not exactly. His nose was runny, his eyes were red, and he barely had the strength to get out of bed. But no, no. He could still do his job just fine, minus much needed enthusiasm. Tom rolled over on his side, and felt the pillow slowly slipping from his temple. He could also feel something else slipping from his memory.    
  
Booker:   
Booker lay there, unable to sleep. All he could think about was Tommy. He was a pretty straight forward guy I guess you could say. No, nothing reminded him of Tom. No, he didn't get a knot in his stomach when someone mentioned his name. No, he didn't contemplate calling him over and over again in the middle of the night just to hear his voice. No, he didn't consider running to his door and banging until he was allowed entrance. 

No. 

Tom never left his mind, he was always thinking of him. What the hell did he need reminders for? The knot in his stomach never undid itself since the first moment he made the connection between Tom's name and who he was. He did call his place in the middle of the night but hung up after one ring, realizing it was probably not a good idea. And His fist was an inch from Tom's wooden barrier, but after a moment Booker would sigh and run down the stairs and out the complex before anyone would know he was even there. Booker sat up in his bed, and leaned his back against the wall. In the distance, he could hear pins knocking over..

Hanson:  
"Come on Tommy, quit laughing and help me would ya?"

"I thought you didn't need a little geek like me to help you.."

"Alright, alright I lied ok? I suck. Would you just -- please?"

"Okay, okay, stop your crying."

"I wasn't crying."

"You were close."

"Just help me out, Mr. Lanes."

"'Mr. Lanes?'" He laughed. Booker stood, a frown on his face that seemed much more like a grin despite his complaining. Hanson walked over to Dennis and stood behind him and gently positioned him in the right stance.

"Okay.. now, just.."

Dennis had looked down at him, his palm on top of Booker's. Dennis was smiling small, and Tom felt something that he questioned constantly in his head. It was that look in his eye, Tom remembered. That milky, pure look that was slightly unreadable because Dennis covered it up so quick. It was that moment that Tom felt.. it.

"Let go."

Tom was back in his body. Back in his head. Back in his space. He remembered Dennis, choking out a laugh and wanting to play again and again. Hanson was really content after the night he took Booker bowling. That was a good memory..  
  
Booker: Dennis wasn't some glorified geek bowler like Tom was, but he knew how to get those damn pins down. Whether or not it was against the rules was debatable. Yeah! He called Hanson a geek. Why? You don't particularly need a bowling shirt to go bowling and even when he didn't SAY anything about it, Booker felt like his attire was out of place.

"Come on Tommy, quit laughing and help me would ya?" He whined. Geek Hanson was creaming his ass, and it sucked. No, actually, Booker sucked. He used all his concentration on his last turn and yet, he still got it in the gutter. Now he was up again and hesitate as ever, and Tom was holding back his laughs as Dennis debated if he even wanted to continue.

"I thought you didn't need a little geek like me to help you.." Hanson had said. Booker was about to ask if he preferred dork but he saw that look on Tom's face. A little embarrassment mixed in with insecurity. He didn't mean to call Hanson a geek in a way to make him feel like was a loser or anything, in all honesty Booker was the loser right now. Dennis just didn't want to seem like he was weak or vulnerable, unfortunately it made Tom feel just that. He let his words wash away and instead said,  
"Alright, alright I lied okay? I suck. Would you just -- please?"

Dennis didn't really need help, well half and half. He did need to learn how Tommy could get those freaking smirking black and white pins out so easily, but he could have just ran down the alley ignoring Tom's frantic shouts and just kicked them nonchalantly down and walk calmly back claiming victory. But, no, no. He had to make it up to Tom for being such a jerk, didn't he?

"Okay, okay, stop your crying." He said. Dennis covered himself up perfectly. Keeping a cool, joking tone.

"I wasn't crying."

"You were close." He always loved how no matter how hard he pushed Tom, he could always somehow counter him back. It was actually fun and amusing to him, and it had taken him by surprise when he saw how sharp Tom's tongue really was and how fast he'd throw himself into a fight. Even when Booker thought he was crazy for doing so, Hanson really had a good right arm.

"Just help me out," Dennis was so flushed in his thoughts, his comeback suffered greatly. Mr.. pins? Oh yeah, easy way to pin head. Weren't we trying to make him feel better? Mr... stripes! Oh god. Mr... balls, okay, now really isn't the time for crude humor. Shit, "Mr. Lanes."

MISTER. LANES. 

"'Mr. Lanes?'" Tom laughed. Oh man, that laugh did wonders for Booker's cracked heart. Even if he was laughing at him, mocking him. Dennis could allow it. Oh crap, gotta act like I care. He frowned. But he could feel himself grinning a bit at Tom's chuckling face. Next thing he knew, Tom was behind him. Leading his arm somewhere, stretching out another, tilting his chin up, and finally. Placing his hands on Booker's, warm and secure, moving the ball to aim directly at the pins and they leaned forward together as one.

"Okay.. now, just.."

His voice was soft as his hands, soft as his hair. As Booker looked up at him, he couldn't help but think it. Soft as his lips. It took every ounce of strength to fight the urge off. He was so close, so close. But Dennis resisted, unsure if Tom could even see what he wanted. He hid his feelings fast so that he wouldn't frighten Hanson. Despite many assumptions, when Dennis falls in love.. he falls, hard.

"Let go." Hanson said. Without tearing away his eyes, they moved fluently and only looked up when they heard a crash. Dennis got a strike. He shuttered with a laugh, unbelieving that he really did get a strike. A STRIKE! He begged Hanson for another game and another game, which Tom allowed enthusiastically. Tom still won. But the night, and time spent, went longer than intended and incredibly well. Dennis couldn't sleep so fast that night. He fought his tiresome lids to replay the evening's events over..and over again..

Booker loved that night. 


	2. The Biker

Hanson:  
"HANSON!"

"Yes, dear Booker?" He smirked.

"Knock it off, I know you did it."

"Did what?" He asked innocently.

"You _know_ what."

He sighed boredly, "I don't. Enlighten me."

Everyone in the chapel was staring at them. The way the tension grew, it was almost impossible to ignore.

"You hid my keys. You _know_  I need to take my bike to the shop."

"Why would I do such a thing?" He asked sarcastically.

"You hate my bike."

"Maybe, maybe not." He said, very Tommy Mcquaid. Dennis huffed and gripped his shirt and pulled him out of his seat. Tom merely smirked and allowed himself to be towed out the chapel. Doug had managed to catch his eye, but Hanson had sent him don't-worry-about-it-I'm-fine eyes.. and Doug had sat back down.

Booker roughly tossed Hanson out the chapel and everyone inside had decided it was best to let them resolve whatever it was that needed to be solved. Tom landed on the brick wall with a soft thud, opposite Dennis. Dennis, who stood with his arms crossed and eyes glowering.

"Aw, you look so cute when you're pissed off." Tom joked. Booker broke into a smile and brushed his body tightly to Tom's and ran his fingers into Hanson's messy brown hair. Booker cradled Tom's face and smirked into the ravishing kisses he put onto Hanson's lips.

"Think they believed us?" Tom whispered as Dennis moved his hot lips to devour his neck.

"Yeah, we hate each other. Could rip you limb from limb right now for an overwhelming feeling I can't explain." Dennis whispered back up to Tom's eyes to flash the lust that mirrored in Hanson's before filling Tom's mouth with his skilled tongue..

Tom remembered that. They kept it a secret for a while. I mean, how could they really tell anyone? Doug would kill Booker. Fuller would fire them. And they'd be labeled the gay undercover high school couple. A few blow out fights here and there didn't seem so bad. That was, until..

  
Booker:  
Booker stormed into the chapel, Tom was sitting with his legs propped up on his desk. He was playing with a pencil, "HANSON!" He shouted. A shout that rumbled through the chapel. Gathering attention, no doubt. Dennis made a B-line toward him and stopped in front of his desk. To add dramatics, he placed both his palms on the end of the desk and stared at Tom until he looked up.

"Yes, dear Booker?" He said, in his smart ass tone.

"Knock it off, I know you did it." Booker said. Realizing everyone had stopped filing. Writing. Talking. Sleeping. To watch whatever was about to happen. It was unexpected and so, unpredictable.

"Did what?" Tom asked, his voice going up a bit and his eyebrows raising questionably.

"You _know_  what." Dennis growled. He could feel everyone almost edging closer to them. The way his voice came out, sounded like his fuse was blowing out. He could see Doug slowly raising..

Tom sighed, bored, "I don't." He said. He lazily leaned forward to Booker, "Enlighten me." Oh, leave it to Tommy to use some 10th grade vocabulary.

"You hid my keys." Dennis snarled, "you _know_  I have to take my bike to the shop." Booker's motorcycle really was special to him, why? Simply for it's meaning. Rebellion, freedom, rights. Strangely, it made him feel full out American.

"Why would I do such a thing?" Hanson asked. To piss me off, maybe, Booker thought? He knew that if one did not take one's bike to said shop, one would be without a bike. Therefore, one would need to ask people for rides and endure uncomfortable silences and be induced to favors that could never cover the inconvenience of being without one's bike.

"You hate my bike." Yeah, the smell wasn't pleasant for everyone. Yeah, it wasn't terribly good for the environment. _Yeah_ , he got pulled over a lot and had to roll his eyes at red faced apologetic cops who didn't know he, too, was a man of the force. A motorcycle wasn't everyone's best friend.

"Maybe, maybe not." Tom challenged with his Mcquaid smile. It was too much to take. Booker grabbed his shirt and tore him passed the watchful eyes and out the chapel. He tossed him outside and hoped no one would come and be peacemaker. Hanson landed against a brick wall but soon leaned on it, he waited smiling at Dennis. Booker was staring at him, his eyes burning and jaw clenched.

"Aw, you look so cute when you're pissed off." Tom smiled the smile Dennis knew was only reserved for him. Booker's face relived its tension and grinned right back. 

Dennis backed him into the wall and ran his hands up Hanson's neck to reach his face, swifting in the kisses he knew made Tom, as well as him, breathless.

He whispered, his voice was so whispy, "Think they believed us?" Tom asked as Dennis tasted his partner's addicting skin, careful not leave any fresh love bites.. those would be for later where no one could see them.

Booker pulled his mouth closer and gently spoke against his panting lips, "Yeah," he said, "we hate each other." Booker knew he and Hanson didn't get off on the right foot, everyone knew it. In the minds of Doug, the captain, Judy and Harry - they only brought out the worst in each other. Booker knew one of two things would happen if they came forward with their relationship. One, no one would believe them. They'd think it was a joke, an experiment, nothing serious or real. Dennis thought of that as he looked into his small lover's eyes, that would hurt him. Hurt Hanson that his family didn't accept him or how he felt. Two, they would kill Dennis. Doug would tear Booker to shreds, he could get fired, and Hanson might have second thoughts. That would hurt Dennis. But no, he fell for Hanson. He got Hanson. No way he was going to jeopardize it for a few reluctant congratulations.

"Could rip you limb from limb right now for an overwhelming feeling I can't explain." He whispered mischievously. He knew Hanson could break his heart in two clean shards, but he didn't care. Didn't care that he would find himself in bed alone. Didn't care that he would cry every night. Because Hanson was here. In his arms with adoring eyes, he would live in the moment and cherish every second. Dennis gave him a kiss, hoping Tom could feel the devotion behind it.

Booker remembered that "fight", he sighed. He should have bitten the bullet and told Tom they should come out. Hiding would soon take it's toll..


	3. More Than Anything

Booker:

"WE'RE THE MCQUAID BROTHERS! HEH!"

Booker looked up from his desk, already annoyed.

Yes, he knew Tom was a Mcquaid.

Yes, he accepted it.

Yes, he found it attractive.

Yes, he was jealous of Doug.

Booker stopped short hearing how quickly his thoughts escalated. He sighed. Watching them hit each other, even playfully, made him see the little green monster in himself. He couldn't help it, they had such a bond. A connection. A relationship. Something that Dennis and Tom could never quite match. It made him even more envious. Even if he did have Tom's heart, so did Doug.

Dennis thought as he watched the two. His Tom sitting cross legged on Doug's desk, laughing and whispering and Doug taking a joking protective stance in front of him when someone got too close and Tom backing him because yeah, Hanson didn't like it when people thought he couldn't handle himself.

But still, watching them. Staring. Glaring.

Let's face it, Booker didn't like to share.

"I just don't get it, okay, Tommy! I know he's your best friend and all, but you can't tell me that you never --"

"Stop." Tom crossed over to him. They were arguing in Booker's apartment, "I never looked at Doug like that. Yeah, he's my best friend but he's like my brother. You." Tom said, softly. Holding Booker's hurt jealous face. Tom didn't see how much it hurt Dennis to see his lover with Doug, Doug who could easily take him away. Dennis knew he'd fight long and hard for Tommy but he would also let him go if it'd make Tom happy. He looked at his lover hopelessly just as Tom said, "You're my you know, you're mine." The words coming out in a soft melody really. Easy, simple, blunt, obvious.

Dennis had looked up at him, oh my God he thought..

"I'm your-your," Booker stuttered. Did he just, no, no way. There was no way. They'd been seeing each other a while, well a _bit_  actually since a lot of their dates were either completely planned like dinner at Tom's, or unexpected like.. a little making out in the men's room. Booker knew to be careful, well at least, he tried to be. He thought maybe Tom was experimenting a bit, maybe it was just a one shot thing. They hadn't had sex yet, or said I love you and shit. They hadn't even discussed what the hell they were. They just, kind of, happened.

"Am I your boyfriend, Tommy?"

Tom smiled and kissed him, real gentle, real soft, "Yeah.. if you wanna be." Dennis pulled him into his arms and hugged him so tight that Hanson had to pinch him to he'd let up. When he did pull back, Booker smiled so completely happy and sure.

"Fuck yeah, more than anything." Dennis remembered that evening. God, he nearly broke into Tommy's arms.   
  
Hanson:  
They had just made their 3rd drug bust and Tom was ecstatic. So was Doug, and together they felt unstoppable. They barged through the door, close as their bodies could get to cause intimidation. When an officer asked who they were and if they needed help with something, they simply called out their battle cry.

"WE'RE THE MCQUAID BROTHERS! HEH!"

They walked over to Doug's desk. Doug offered to pick him up, but Tom just frowned and lifted himself onto the table with ease. Doug took his own chair and they conversed about how exciting and thrilling it was to watch the teenage "gangs" get busted.

"Man, I've been dying to see that smirk wiped off the little dweebs face." Tom said.

Doug laughed, "Kind of reminded me of Booker. An arrogant son of a bitch."

Tom was a bit startled and was going to look around for him, but Doug placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a subtle head tilt to the far side of the room. Tom gave a small nod that he understood.

"Why you hate him so much, anyway?" He asked, casually.

Doug scoffed, "Don't you?" Tom rolled his eyes, "Never saw you as a conformist, Dougie." Doug hit him in the arm. Tom made a Mcquaid face, and Doug smiled. Next thing he knew, they were playfully shoving each other back and forth. When that gave, they went to flicking each other in the ear and pinching uncomfortable spots they knew the other had.

"Why you pouting, Tommy? Did Doug steal your juice box, again?" Harry joked, a file in hand. Doug sat straight and leaned back, as Hanson leaned forward.

Menacingly Tom had asked, "Wanna run that by me again?" Harry made a gesture of defense and kept on walking. Doug eased up and Tom hit him in the back of the head.

 _"OW?!"_  Doug exclaimed. Tom laughed inside. He knew how dramatic Doug could get, even being serious. Was just his nature.

"I can handle myself." Tom said sternly. But Doug was trying to hide a smile. Hanson broke into one, too, but tried to keep his tough guy demeanor.

" _WHAT_?"

"Harry could kick both our tails."

Tom sat back and thought about this. Harry did know an awful lot of martial arts..

"Shit, you're right."

Doug laughed, and Tom chuckled, "We could always double team him!"

"Yeah, you're right! We could stay back to --- wait a second, no!" Tom stopped. Doug was smiling, "this is supposed to be about me being able to take care of myself." Doug smiled that goofy smile that Hanson couldn't help but return. He slid to the edge of Doug's desk and Doug sighed calmly and placed an arm around Tom's shoulders. He felt so warm. "Face it Tommy," he said, "you need me."

"I just don't get it, okay, Tommy! I know he's your best friend and all, but you can't tell me that you never --" Dennis yelled.

"Stop," where was this coming from, Tom thought. They went back to Booker's place after work, secretively of course, and Dennis was completely unreachable. Tom tried to talk to him but Booker just said that he was fine. When Hanson tried to touch Booker, he let up. He just blurted it out, what's happening with you and Doug, Tom? Hanson assured him nothing, utterly confused. But Dennis couldn't stop when he got the first words out. Tom couldn't take it anymore, Dennis was going insane and for how long? He didn't know, "I never looked at Doug like that. Yeah, he's my best friend but he's like my brother. You." He took Booker's face in his hands, he was looking shamefully down. He could feel Booker's jaw clenched, his eyes in pain. It ripped at Tom's heart, "You're my you know, you're mine."

Suddenly Booker pulled away, his eyes widened. He didn't say anything. From the look of it, Tom could see he wasn't breathing through his parted lips. All anger and jealousy faded from his face, now it was just.. disbelief? Why was he looking at Tom..

Shit.

Tom remembered. He suggested the B word, the L word, he thought. He couldn't pick a word to label them because sometimes it'd be as deep as the Pacific or something simple like honeymoon puppy love. But, he didn't feel as though he should be taking it back. He waited, shyly and frightfully.

"You-you said," something changed in his eyes. Something twinkled.. Hanson saw it, Hanson knew it, Hanson thought it.

"Am I your boyfriend, Tommy?" Tom smiled. He couldn't deny it, he did love it when Dennis called him that. He pulled him in and kissed him, soft enough so Dennis could feel it. Feel Tom's heart that softened under his question. Under Booker's voice. Under Dennis' skin.

"Yeah.." Hanson whispered quietly against Booker's lips. But had a quick thought. What if he misread his eyes? His words? They hadn't been dating long.. if you could even call it dating. Sneaking around, keeping secrets. It hurt Tom inside to think that if Dennis didn't see it had meaning, he wouldn't want Tom anymore. Hanson didn't know if he could take it. He felt something for Dennis, something strong, but he couldn't place it.

"If you wanna be." He said. He gave Booker a way out, a clean break, a fresh escape. No, Tom didn't want him to leave. But it would really kill him if Dennis didn't want to be with him or saw whatever they had as real.

But, Booker didn't push him away. Didn't walk out. Didn't say no. Instead, he pulled Hanson in so tight. So freaking tight, he couldn't even feel the soft jabs Tom had sent him. Looking for a sensitive spot, Hanson fiercely pitched him. Dennis gave a soft chuckle and pulled Hanson back to face him. Tom watched his eyes, saw that thing in them again.

"Fuck yeah, more than anything." 

Yeah, Tom thought, more than anything..


	4. The Fight

Booker:   
"Do you love me?

Silence.

"Tommy, come on." He begged weakly for a moment until something took over.

Defense. Anger. Hurt.

"Was it just some, kind of game?!"

"No!" Tom screamed. It hurt Booker's ears. It was so loud, so clear.

As Dennis lay in his bed, he curled himself into a ball and remembered that day.

Their day off. They finally had time to move into Hanson's apartment. And Dennis had let it slip.

I love you.

That was all he said, and Tom didn't say anything at all.

"Then, why won't you say it!?" Dennis demanded. Tom had given him a blank face, his eyes looked bewildered. Booker couldn't find any trace of mutual feelings and it was really getting to him.

Then, it hit him.

"Doug. It's Doug." He looked at Tom, accusingly, "isn't it?!" He started pacing, "You... you love Doug. Right?!" Dennis realized he was freaking out but he had all the reason to! "You don't care about me," he stopped and faced Tom, he spat softly, "Why won't you fucking answer me?" He flinched away, unable to face him for too long, he shouted, "Speak, Tom!"

Hanson came to life, then, he remembered. His arms flying about, trying to get Dennis to understand. But Dennis had gone off the deep end and there was no getting him back. The smell of jealousy filled his lungs and all he could really see was Doug holding Tom in bed. Doug kissing Tom before work. Doug calling him TOMMY. Doug saying, I love you.. and Tom saying it right back.

"This is real, Dennis! You know it is." Hanson placed his hands on Booker's shoulders, urging him to look up and see sense, "It's so, it's just. It's intense. This is too much, I'm overwhelmed!" Hanson begged. 

Dennis remembered seeing those chocolate covered eyes looking so desperate. Why, he wondered now, he didn't know.

"Just give me some time," Tom continued, "I'm a little scared." He admitted.

Dennis felt a sting in his chest, "Scared?" He said, pulling away and turning his back, he held back the tears he felt welling up. He turned sharply around and shouted, _"I frighten you, is that it?!"_

Hanson waved his hand in from of him, Dennis remembered knowing exactly how this was going to end, "No, I just. I'm-- I'm just afraid, okay?" It didn't make sense to Dennis, at all. He was afraid, Tommy was afraid. Of what?

"But, why? Why is it," Dennis couldn't keep them locked behind his lids anymore. With his fists made, he turned to Tom and asked tearfully, "Why is it so hard for you to love me? Why can't you... just fucking say it?"

Tom was looking down, Dennis saw a tear fall and touch the floor. It was the only sound in the whole apartment, "I," he whispered, "I can't."

Booker felt his face go hard, he said in a monotone voice, "So you don't." He stormed out before Tom could reach out to him, when he reached the door he rethought about what he wanted to do. He couldn't take it. Tom broke his heart. He wasn't going to let him watch the pieces fall. Dennis stormed out the complex and cried in an alleyway outside.

Booker sat up in his bed, and touched his cheek. His hand held salty wet tears, it still hurt to think about it. Dennis really believed he wouldn't make it through the night. He didn't even think he could make it through this afternoon. He did, he loved Tommy so much. It was eating him up, he couldn't stay at his apartment anymore. Have to get out, he thought. He grabbed his keys, and scurried out the door.

  
Hanson:  
Hanson was overwhelmed with joy. Dennis was moving in with him today. It was also their day off, they could finally get it out of the way and Tom could find some comfort in the stability and promise.

But, something happened.

"I love you, Tommy."

Tom had stopped moving boxes and stood, looking away from Dennis. He didn't say that. He was joking. He didn't mean it. How could Dennis love him? He didn't say anything.

"Tommy, come on." Dennis pleaded. Hanson could feel his heart racing, his breathing stop. Dennis didn't mean it, he didn't.. he only thought he loved Tom. He didn't love him, no, not really. Hanson barely had a build, he had an okay face. Hanson always wondered what the hell Dennis was doing with him, but he figured maybe Dennis just had a little crush and he was blowing it way out of proportion. And now he just said..

"Was it just some, kind of game?!" Dennis almost screamed. Startled, Tom was brought out his thoughts, he turned.

"No!" He yelled. God, no. Hanson didn't play Dennis, this was the greatest thing to happen to him. He couldn't let Booker think that he didn't respect him, or that it was just some sick joke.

"Then why won't you say it?!" Dennis questioned. Jesus christ, why didn't he say it back? He had to say it. Prove it. Even if he didn't believe Dennis. He tried to get out the words, but Booker exploded.

"Doug. It's Doug." He looked at Tom, accusingly, "isn't it?!" He started pacing, Tom watched frighteningly, "You..you love Doug. Right?!" Hanson watched his lover lose it. He tried to listen and understand what Booker was saying, but he just kept shooting out assumption after assumption, "You don't care about me," he stopped and faced Tom, how could he think that. He asked softly. "Why won't you fucking answer me?" He flinched away from Tom. Hanson shuddered. He shouted abruptly, "Speak, Tom!"

"This is real, Dennis! You know it is." Tom placed his hands on Booker's shoulders, he could feel him shaking..no, trembling, "It's so, it's just." Tom struggled to find the right words. To hear Dennis say aloud that he did, he did love Tom. It was so scary, so real, and so unbelievably unstable. What if he really did love him? What would happen if he stopped? Could Hanson handle that? He was truly giving his heart away, "It's intense. This is too much, and I'm overwhelmed!" He yelped. More than anything he wanted to hug Booker and just cry out the tears he felt inside himself. So many emotions, all at once.

Tom looked into Booker's eyes, trying to get him to see. See something that Hanson couldn't even explain, but hoping he'd understand. Sick logic there, Tommy-boy. Oh, shut up. Wake up, fuck.

Tom just couldn't lose him.

"Just give me some time," Hanson felt faint, "I'm a little scared." What if he said the wrong thing? What if he would lose Dennis forever, right here, right now? He couldn't bear to talk, but he couldn't allow Dennis to rampage on.

"Scared?" Booker turned away from him, walked off a bit. His back was turned. Tom wanted to reach out, so much. But something told him not to. Suddenly he twisted himself to face Tom again and shouted, " _I frighten you, is that it?!"_

Why couldn't Dennis see that it had nothing to do with him? Nothing at all. Tom was stupid, and Tom wasn't good enough for him. Tom knew this. Tom was scared... because maybe now Dennis would really see how worthless Hanson was.

Tom put his hands up in defense, trying to persuade Booker into knowing that it was, in fact, not his fault. Unfortunately, Hanson didn't do so in so many words, " "No, I just. I'm-- I'm just afraid, okay?" He was afraid that if Dennis really allowed himself to love Hanson, he would only be disappointed. And once disappointed, Booker would leave Tom. And Tommy-boy.. would die of heartbreak. 

"But, why? Why is it," Hanson could hear Booker's voice. See his fists clenched. Tom was fucking him up, making him feel hurt. Tom. Wanted. To die.

"Why is it so hard for you to love me? Why can't you... just fucking say it?" Hanson looked at the almost sob of a voice.

Tom could barely breathe, barely stand, barely feel anything. He was out of body, watching his stupid being fuck up everything he wanted. He needed to get the world to stop spinning. He needed to talk to Booker, not fight with him. Tom needed Dennis.

"I," before Tom knew it, he watched a tear roll along his face and fall to the wooden floor. He had been crying this whole time. Dennis said he loved Tom, and Tom just couldn't accept it. He didn't know why but he just.. "I can't." The words fell right from his mouth.

"So you don't." Was all he heard. Three words. Three words that caused him to die from the inside. Last thing he heard were descending footsteps, a slammed shut, and the smack of the complex door.

Tom fell to the floor. His legs gave. He dragged his limbs to his chest and cradled himself. He slowly drowned in his tears on the floor, whispering over and over again.

"I love you, I love you. I love you so fucking much, Dennis. Please, don't leave me." He whimpered, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.."

Tom remembered that feeling. A feeling he never wanted to experience again and yet it manifested his whole body, he didn't think he could ever forget it. Hanson sniffed and breathed in deeply, washing away the tears that had been falling as he replayed each memory. It burned Tom, he messed it all up. All because he just couldn't understand how Dennis could really love him. Just, couldn't see it. Or, get it. Understand it.

But as Tom looked over the major pieces of the relationship, he came to the realization. He loved Dennis. No. He loves Dennis. So much, so hard. And there was no way Hanson was gonna let him go without a fight. They have something so good, so special. Tom knew that if he just apologized, just explained no matter how embarrassing.. he could be lying in bed with the person he wanted most.

Tom huffed and raced out the apartment, grabbing his keys along the way, but gave one look back at his home.

Boxes were undone, a small spot on the floor looked a little damp, and it looked like no one had been there.

Tom just couldn't look at it any longer, he needed to leave. Needed to run. And so, he did.


	5. The Accident

Booker:   
Dennis hopped on his bike, stomped it to life and raced down the streets. Fast as he could, with one goal in mind. Booker smiled as he thought about it.

"I'm coming, Tommy. You're all I want."

Booker turned, five blocks from Tom's apartment when suddenly,

He saw a bright light.

He heard a woman scream.

He felt nothing.

As he was flying through the air, in what seemed like nothing, he felt serenity. In slow motion, it was as if the world had stopped rotating. He thought about how he'd like to spend this moment, flying, with Tommy. 

But as he crashed, he screamed with agony. Sharp pains going up and down like race cars on his skin, his blood feeling hot and pulsing so hard it felt like they'd burst. But it was all internal and Dennis didn't feel in his body, he started to panic. People crowded him, shouting out for help, that there's been an accident. Booker mumbled incoherently. It felt like the end, but it couldn't be. He needed to live. Dennis needed to see Tom. Make things right. Tell him it was his fault, that he loves the perfect little geek the way he is. And that he'd never let him go again.   
  
Hanson:  
"Dennis, please, let me in.. I was a fucking idiot, okay? Of course, I love you. I didn't say it 'cause, 'cause I was afraid! Afraid if you'd love me, really love me, you'd leave me because --" Tom continued to bang on Booker's front door relentlessly, shouting no matter who could walk out and see him practically begging on Dennis' doorstep, "Come on, Dennis, open up!"

Tom whispered, "I'm not good enough for you, but I love," Tom said louder, "You." He felt tears stinging in his eyes and he could barely open his mouth without suffocating from the erupting sobs, but he had to get the words out. He had to get his love out. He had to get Dennis out and back with him. It was now or never, all or nothing.

"Come on! God dammit, Booker. I don't wanna lose you." Tom's fist felt sore, it slid down and off the door. He turned his back to it and slowly fell to the ground. His head in his hands, he muffled, "Don't forget about me."  
  
Booker:  
"He's uh," someone said, "c-c-cop."

"Dennis Booker, at your service." He said, almost drunk.

"P-paul, call 911! Get him to a hospital, I'll see if I can fix his --" Dennis was in and out. All the memories he brought up today started to play all over again, faster and faster. They raced so fast, it was nauseating and frightening. Booker had been in life and death situations, he looked down the face of a gun and still nothing compared to this moment. Maybe because this time he had something to lose. 

Next thing Booker remembered was being in an ambulance. He could tell from the smell of latex gloves and blaring wails of sirens.

"What're you -- no, no," he said, trying to stop the helpful hands. His efforts were unsuccessful.   
"I have to," he breathed, "Tommy."

"Who's Tommy?" The paramedic asked.

"He's my - "  
  
Hanson:   
Tom started to sob harder and harder and hysterically remind himself of all the memories he thought of during the day, "This is so stupid, Booker! Fuck.. remember when you were going crazy about Doug, you were so, so ridiculous! I only love you, and-and-and I only wanted you. You said, you _said_ , "More than anything." Let's get that back! Let's be 'More than anything' again, please.. just open the fucking door, Dennis!"

Booker:  
"HELP! WE GOT A GONER OVER HERE. NEED A-A-A THE THING WITH THE CHARGING AND THE CLEAR AND BZZZZ, JUST HELP!" The paramedic panicked.

Well, that's not comforting.

"Okay, you're good. You're fine." The young - now that Booker took notice - paramedic sighed in relief.

Booker coughed softly, "First week?" The fresh out of Med school paramedic shyly said, "First day."

"Yeah, well, just -" Booker was out, too tired to keep his lids open, as the drug slowly took effect.  
  
Hanson:  
"You remember that time I took you bowling? I thought maybe I had a thing for you but were such an a-a-ass! I denied it and denied it until we went bowling. I saw something in your eye and that's when I-I-I knew, that I wanted you.. so please let me in, forgive me because I love you so much it fucking hurts!"  
  
Booker: Dennis found himself in a hospital bed, with the amateur paramedic talking over him with a bunch of doctors who were doing.. something.

"He's a cop, we, I, um," he stuttered. Booker's eyes were bleary and barely open, yet he felt wide awake. He listened to the stumbling newbie and wondered if he was like that when he first started out. He wondered if Tom was like that.. probably. He wanted to laugh but something felt sharp..coming from his heart.

He screamed uncontrollably. 

  
Hanson:  
"DENNIS! Fuck, Goddammit!" Tom wailed, "I know, that-that fake fight wasn't real but I just, I couldn't live with it if you really hated me. God, fuck, Dennis! COME ON!" Tom shouted to the locked door, banging relentlessly. 

  
Booker:

The doctors started putting things in, taking things out, shouting at each other to roll him upstairs.

What the hell was upstairs?

Dennis suddenly got very, very scared.

"He's going into shock! Get him upstairs. NOW!"

Frantically being wheeled down a white hallway with blinding fluorescent lights, Booker heard a voice.

"We're gonna fix you, don't you worry. You're gonna live. You gotta fight to live. Whatever you got worth losing, think about it."

"To-Tommy." Dennis whimpered through a whisper, knowing it'd be the only encouragement he would need in that moment.  
  
Hanson:  
"Dennis, please." Tom cried. Not giving a damn how ridiculous, how pathetic, how embarrassing, how hysterical it looks for a grown man to be sobbing to a door.

"Dennis, I don't want to lose you, I can't! Don't leave me, we can fix this. I love you." Hanson's voice broke on his last word, his heart did the same. He slumped into his hands, he knew Dennis would break his heart.

But, he didn't.

It was his own fault, he broke his own heart, "You heartless bastard." He whispered to himself.

"TOM!"

Hanson bolted up. _Really?_  He heard _that?_  
"I didn't mean it!" He screamed. But he couldn't find the voice. Time had passed and the apartment had grown completely dark as Tom loitered the hallway. Tom stayed curled into himself for protection. He jumped back and hit his head, when hands grabbed him up and started yelling at him. Hanson flinched away from the sharp words.

"Tom! Jesus, where the hell have you been?!" His best friend asked, "Booker's been in an accident, we couldn't find you, we thought, I thought --" Doug stopped and fell over his own words. Before Hanson could take in the information, he tried soothing Doug.

"Doug, it's okay, I'm fine, see? I was here the whole time." Doug leaned his body into his friend's, Hanson hugged him tightly.

"What're you doing here, anyway?" Doug questioned into Tom's T-shirt covered shoulder.

"Had to fix what happened with Dennis. Tell him I love him, that I'm sorry." Tom said calmly, focusing solely on consoling Doug's racing fear.

Doug pulled back, a strange look on his face, "You love him? Fix what?"

Shit. He spilled the beans. Again.

"You- you and Booker? _Booker_?!" Tom nodded, guilty. He yelped when Doug grabbed him and hugged him strongly.

"What--hell--Doug?" Hanson squeaked. Penhall eased his grip and let out a shaking laugh, "I owe Jude 10 bucks!"

Tom gaped, "You knew?!"

"Well, had an INKLING," he said in a silly child-like voice, "You ain't that slick, Romeo -- or -- woah -- wait -- would you be? -- I mean, no offense but --"

"Doug. Shut up." They smiled at each other, accepting the situation. Yes, Tom was in love with Dennis. Yes, Doug was okay with that.

"That's why I'm at here at Book ---" Tom stopped. He looked up in panic at Penhall, "Booker. Den -- Doug! Where's Dennis?!" 


	6. Black Out

Booker:

Booker didn't know where the hell he was, or what the hell was going on. It wasn't a memory, he knew that much. Only because he wasn't - just - watching Hanson, he was watching him and Tom.  They were in a park with an open field, it was so freaking bright. Almost neon colored trees, grass, and the sky! Goddamn. Dennis had never seen a bluer sky. It actually bothered his eyes so much because of how pretty it was, even though Booker was more a fan of the night. The blackness that seems endless but somehow the stars, with their subtle lightness, offer a limitless hope. When he turned away to shield his eyes, he was back in his body and saw him. Tom was lying chest up in a clean white T-shirt, his hands tapping lightly on his abdomen to an imaginary rhythm. Booker glimpsed down and saw he was also wearing those snug denim jeans that teased Bookers' eyes and stirred him righteously. Tom was also wearing clean sneakers and his hair was its perfect mess of waves and curls. His eyes were closed and he was smiling that signature Tommy Hanson smile. Dennis just stared at his face for a while. 

 "Beautiful, huh?" Tom said, peeking out and finding Booker's gaze with an ease. Dennis smiled warmly at the familiar voice.

"Yeah. Sure is."

Suddenly Hanson got very serious and he rolled onto his elbows and glared at Dennis with a blankness, "You have to get out of here." Booker started to sit up, "What, what? Why? No. No way, i don't want to--"

 "You have to get out of here."

 "Tommy," he said, confused, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here." Dennis brushed his lips against Tom's alluring pout, "With you."

 "You have to get out of here." Tom said, lifelessly.

"Why do you keep saying that? Why do you want me to leave?! I'm not leaving you Tommy, not again. Ever." His eyes began to water, Dennis strictly gripped Tom's shoulders.

Hanson stood up and let Booker's hands fall, "Then go back to me." He smiled, gently. His voice soft and easing.

Booker stared at him, puzzled and got to his own feet, "What are you talking about, Tom?" Tom merely smiled and pointed at Dennis. Confused, Booker continued to stare at him. Hanson did not move, did not speak. His smile, however, was gone.

Dennis followed his finger and realized he was pointing at his abdomen.

"Oh my.. fuck.." Booker looked down and whispered.

  
Hanson:   
"Tom, will you slow down?!" Doug shouted, clinging to every inch of his seat for dear life. Although, Hanson couldn't hear anything. All he saw was the worst outcome a motorcycle accident could bring to his lover -- ex-lover? Whatever. He imagined Dennis lied out on the sidewalk, his face that Tom loved, bloodied and battered. He imagined Dennis on a gurney, his limbs that Tom loved having around him, bruised hanging off the side. He imagined Dennis choking on his last breath, and Tom selfishly hoping it'd be his name to be the last words Dennis Booker ever said.

"I love him, Doug.." Tom began to cry, his hands tightened on the steering wheel, his foot releasing some urgency, enough to calm Penhall's nerves and slow down, "I don't know what I'd do if he --" Hanson stared straight ahead realizing now that it was raining, "I don't know what I'd do." He whispered softly. Not trusting his voice to talk without sobbing the life out of his body.

Doug placed his hand gently on Tom's, Hanson knew he noticed the slight jump after doing so, "Getting yourself into an accident, won't do him any good." Tom nodded at this soft voice of his best friend. He knew that, sometimes he just needed someone to tell him. Tom removed the hand Penhall had from the steering wheel to place it in between their seat. Doug hesitated whether or not to hold it, but Tom quickly grabbed it and locked it in his grasp. Tom was shaking.

"You tell me uh, does he treat you um, good?" Doug asked, nervously. Tom let out a dry chuckle and nodded, sniffing away the tears as he did so.

Doug nodded too, Tom could tell that he wasn't sure how to word his questions. Realizing that silence would have to suffice, he thought about how increasingly bad Doug must feel. He didn't even know if Booker was alive. Hanson could see his partner watching the rain, keeping his head lowered so that his long curly hair covered his eyes.

"He was jealous of you." Tom suddenly said. Doug looked up. Doug had no way out in this situation, all he could do was talk to his buddy like normal and hold his hand and be his best friend. Even though Tom knew that Doug just felt like a shitty messenger.

"Huh?"

Tom laughed. Doug always had been a bit spacey and his confused questions sounded so funny and dazed.

"Dennis. He was, um," Tom heard the past tense. Yes, he did. He looked over at Doug. He'd keep a strong face as not to displease his friend. He did have hope of course, but reality was just there in the shadows. Taunting him with the truth, "He's jealous of you." Reality can go screw itself.

"Yeah?" Doug said, a dark smile spreading across his face, "Is it my good looks and sense of humor that got under his leather-wearing skin?"

"Yeah, right." Tom snorted, Doug gave him a playful punch in the arm that Hanson returned, "He just thought, you and me were.. y'know." Doug nodded, understanding.

"I get it. But what I don't get, why is everyone's always pinning us for each other? You're my pal, man, nothing less and nothing more. Besides was just trying to keep up appearances. You're a Mcquaid, man! Heh!" Doug shouted, a small smile playing on Tom's face, "Didn't mean to cause any problems for you, Tommy."

Hanson's smile dropped like a bad habit, "Don't." He said, vaguely, "Don't call me that." They continued driving and Hanson started crying again, only very silently. The hospital was coming around the corner and Tom didn't know what to expect.

  
Booker: Dennis' fingers trembled as he felt warm thin squishy liquid between his thumb and index finger. He was not wearing a white shirt, like Tom. He wore a blood drenched shirt with multiple cuts and holes. His unsteady hands ripped anxiously at the soaked fabric until he was shirtless and could finally see all of himself.

In Booker's right bicep was a long rugged shard of.. glass. The edges sharp and angles disoriented. In Dennis' lower stomach area were bits and pieces of the front of his bike. Sticking out while still being deep inside his abdomen. In his legs were shattered twisted bones. Blood dripping from his fingertips, his mouth opened slack in shock. He looked up at Tom but --

Tom was not there.

Tom had vanished.

Where was Tom?

"TOM!"

But, no one answered. Dennis fell to the floor, unable to stand or move. Quivering, he rushed his head side to side breathing hard as to see the blood flowing out of his body.

"HELP ME! SOMEBODY! TOM! HELP..HE-lp..me..please.."

Distant voices were heard, ".. waking up.. anesthesia.. move, move, move.."

Then everything went black.

  
Hanson: As soon as they reached the entrance, Tom ran ahead letting go of Doug's hand as he did so. Tom was arguing. It didn't matter that he was a cop. They -- actually, she -- gave him little or no information about Booker's condition.

"What do you mean,  _you don't know?!"_  Tom demanded. Upset and annoyed at the -- ironic -- twit of a nurse.

"I mean I don't _know_ , sir! He's in bad shape, and we got a lot of people to treat. You'll have to wait in the waiting room." She said, wide-eyed and stern.

"SCREW YOUR WAITING ROOM!" Tom snapped, viciously. He felt Doug tugging him away assuring the nurse that he was fine and she could go about her business.

"Tom.." Doug said as he began scolding.

"What Doug?!" Hanson barked, "I can't wait any longer, I have to know, I _need_  to know -- " Tom started crying again. All the fight leaving him as fast as it came. Part of his mind wondered how long it'd take before he fainted of dehydration. Doug led him to the waiting room where Tom settled into a seat. Hanson teared softly with his hair covering his eyes, his palms shaky on limp legs, occasionally rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. He did all this silently, while Penhall watched on.

"You gotta get a haircut." He said bluntly.

Tom sniffed, keeping his gaze on the black and white tile squared floor, "Is that so?" He asked, his voice seeping back into normalcy.

"Yeah!" His partner said, rather enthusiastically, "it's nice, y'know kind of long but short," he chuckled, "Like you got-a, got-a ozzy moron hair -- "

"Oxymoron." Tom corrected, a humored smile shedding on his otherwise saddened face.

"Yeah, that! Anyway, it's sorta long but not your longest but just like, the back is gettin' too shaggy." Doug said, gently ruffling the back of Tom's nerve-wracking head. Hanson allowed it and smiled at the simple comforting gesture.. until Doug gasped.

"What?"

"Tom, why are you um bleeding?" Hanson looked up to see his best friend waving his index, middle, and ring finger covered in red goo. Hanson smacked the back of his head instantly to feel anything damp and a memory returned with it. Penhall had scared him shitless at Booker's apartment earlier, he jumped back and banged his head on the stone wall, "Ow." He mumbled. Doug stood up and pulled Tom's elbow with him, "C'mon, we gotta get you to a doctor." Hanson obliged, letting his partner tow him to a middle age guy in a white coat.

"My buddy here's got a head injury -- and I'm sure you got-a lot of patients and all but -- "

The doctor raised his hand and cut him off, "We can treat him right now, we don't have many patients at the moment."

Doug's eyebrow raised, "But the nurse said there were.." the man chuckled lightly, "She must've been mistaken."

Hanson could barely speak, he muttered under his breath, "Bitch." Only Doug heard and Tom could feel him turning slightly until he started to shout.

"WHAT'S HAPPENING?!" Tom felt people running over to him as the floor vibrated beneath him. He heard a doctor say, "He's fine, he just -- "

Hanson suddenly saw black and went limp.


	7. Waking up

Booker:  
Just when he was feeling cold, he watched curiously as the blood that was draining out of him starting swimming its way back into him. He felt stronger, warmer. He got to his feet and found himself in a clean cotton white buttom up shirt. He curled and uncurled his fingers, fascinated with the joints and their obedience to him. It was a nice change of pace he thought, as a small smile grew.

"Dennis."

He through his head up at the familiar voice and exclaimed, "Tom!" Running over and gathering his lover in his arms, "Damn it, Hanson. Don't leave me like that again." Booker noticed Tom didn't respond to his hold but before he could question, he got his answer.

"Dennis," he said, "I need you to go back now." Booker leaned out to stare at Tom's face, "What for? I'm here, you're here. It's perfect!"

Tom merely shook his head slowly, keeping and locking Booker's confused gaze, "This isn't real." Dennis started to object but Tom continued, "I need you to listen. You're going to want to stay. It's going to hurt. You're going to feel defeated. But you have to fight. Find your way back."

He whispered hauntingly before disappearing, before he could call out Dennis was thrown into the realm he longed to abandon forever: The far back room of his mind that his demons resided in.  
  
Hanson:  
Tom woke up, once again, to Doug frantically babbling to a silent party the way he always did when he was nervous or fidgety. 

"I don't know! I was like, 'hey pal get a haircut' and he was all sophisticated like 'is that so?' and I was like 'Yeah' but then I touched his hair and he was bleeding so I took him to see a doctor - pretty lucky we were in a hospital, right? I remember this one time - never mind. Um, anyway then his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he just fell and now, I don't know!"

Hanson peeked out from what felt like a bandage hanging low on his forehead, he found Doug on his left talking worryingly with a doctor that was on Tom's right.

"Mr. Penhall. You have nothing to concern yourself with. Your friend is going to be just fine. He fainted simply from exhaustion, or an extreme amount of stress. His injury is fixable, he'll need to wear the bandage around his head to keep it from bleeding but it should heal nicely."

Tom chuckled dryly, "Very Mcquaid." The doctor smiled down at Hanson as Doug grinned ear to ear, "Tom!" He called. Hanson nodded, confirming his stable existence. The doctor reminded Doug of something that Tom didn't quite catch before the man left the room with Doug in Tom's presence.

He tried sitting up but fell back into the pillows, feeling profoundly woozy, "Woah." he examined as he pressed his hand to his forehead while he blinked the double Doug's away until there was just the one, "You had me scared to death man, don't do that again, huh?" His partner warned as he dragged a plastic chair to Tom's side.

"Sorry next time I feel like fainting, I'll give you a head's up." Doug laughed lightly, "S'all I ask."

They stayed in comfortable silence until an older gentleman was wheeled into the space beside Hanson, realizing the curtain divided a shared room that Tom would have to stay in. He rolled over to his side and watched Doug, whose eyes were glued to some cartoon on the television screen. Hanson gripped Doug's the collar of his shirt and yanked him down so he could whisper to him without any of the nurses hearing and jeopardizing his plan.

"Geez, someone's aggressive today." Tom ignored his comment, "Since I'm stuck here, you have to go and find out which room Dennis is in. Get back to me and I'll come when I can stand on my own without falling over." Doug looked at him curiously and Tom knew he was seeing something wrong with his new plan.

"Will you stop stressin'? S'why you passed out in the first place. Just get some rest and I'll..." he said as his eyes moved back to the screen.

Tom yanked harder on his shirt and Doug gagged at the sudden pressure, "Doug!" His friend looked at him closer. Contemplating, considering, deciding, "Fine." Hanson let go satisfied and yawned.

He started to close his eyes when Doug began to speak again. Tom really wished he hadn't, especially when he heard - the - tone. The _preparing tone_ , the tone used for his father and for his once lover Amy.

"Tom... look, I um... motorcycle accidents. Ya know, they're pretty brutal. Not saying lose hope! But just don't get it too high, y'know?" Hanson sighed and turned to the other side with his back to Penhall.

"Doug.." he said, his voice cracking at the next words, "I know." that's all he could get out before falling into an uneasy sleep.  
  



	8. Old Times

Booker:

"Dad, where you going?"

Dennis took a small step back instinctively with a gentle calmness as his father waved a drunk hand at his direction, "Sh- shut up, Dennis. Go to your r-room."

Dennis looked down at his feet that were covered in a dirty pair of torn converse sneakers. His eyes moved gradually from his feet to his ripped jeans where he found his pockets in which he dug his hands into. Feeling uncomfortable and cold, his voice small and puny.

Reminding himself of his plan he excitedly spoke up, "Mom said to come get you. Dinners ready. We're having spaghetti!" His shoulder, barely warmed by his black shirt, was pushed faintly by his father who said, "Tell her... to shove it." before stumbling out of room and out the front door.

Dennis stayed there for several moments, unsure of what to do. His father turned back and slurred, "You're still my boy, Dennis." Then he left. He heard his mother creak around the corner from the kitchen, her voice obviously shaken, "Is he, is he?" she stuttered.

Dennis remained turned away from her, he cocked his head to the side and nodded. She sighed in relief and cleared her throat, "Come on, Dennis." He nodded and she walked quietly back to her safe haven. When he felt he was completely alone, Dennis walked over to the front door and stretched up to secure it shut. He was four years old.

Hanson:

Once _again_ , Tom woke to Doug laughing. Hard. 

 "Tom's crazy! No way he's gonna catch Jerry, little guy's way too quick for 'em!" Hanson mumbled and Doug's voice changed, "Oh hey, you're up... Look, um, I got a chance to see Booker."

Tom immediately sat up and waited patiently for Penhall to finish, "He's in and out of surgery, he doesn't even have a room because of how often they take him back in. We just have to wait and see." Hanson nodded and thanked him, "Oh yeah -- " Doug started, "Hope you don't mind -- I ate your um," Tom looked over at the nightstand to his right and saw numerous pudding cups, all cleaned up of its delicious content. 

 "Looks like you had the hospital's supply too." he joked. Earning him a nudge in the arm. Penhall handed his friend a cup of water and a little blue pill.

 "Uh Doug, I don't take pills that are just handed to me." The officer gave a sarcastic smile as he lifted a bottle of similarly colored pills and gave them a rattle in response. Hanson sighed and threw the pill down his throat. When he finished swallowing it down with a gulp of water he said, "Anyone know we're here?"

 Doug shrugged, "Fuller, Jude, Harry. Cap said I could stay to nurse your wounds," Penhall said in a soft southern accent, "And Judy and Harry said they'd visit after they finish their shifts. OH! By the way, Jude asked if you had change for a twenty..." Doug said with a sly smile.

 "You told them?!" Tom screeched in shock, jumping forward. Not entirely concerned if they knew, it wouldn't change his feelings for Dennis. But he didn't know if he could handle the rejection or isolation. He was already thanking his lucky stars that Doug wasn't freaking out by it.

 "Didn't we already cover this? They kind of knew... " Hanson slumped back into the pillows and pouted, "What, well? What did they say?" Doug drew his fingers to one end of his mouth to the other and turned his fingers slightly gesturing playfully, and threw away the key.

Hanson smiled at the challenge and silently moved back before quickly grabbing a dozen empty pudding cups and launched into attack. Doug jumped out of his seat and took cover while shouting, "You'll never get me, Copper!"

Tom stopped mid motion, "Doug, you _are_  a cop." Penhall's head straightened up and he asked questionably, "Does that mean I'm in cahoots with myself?" The smaller officer shrugged. They stopped to think about what that all meant when the bitch of a nurse strolled in.

 "Ah, about time someone knocked you out." she remarked at Hanson, who had snapped at her earlier and been kept in the back of her mind as a total jerk.

 "Don't you have a doctor to blow?" Tom retorted, still feeling stubborn from when she refused to update him on Booker's health.

She scoffed, "Got a patient coming in. Probably stay awhile since we're still trying to locate his family."

Tom smirked, "Can't wait." she rolled her eyes at him and walked out with dignity before throwing over her shoulder a, "Bite me." that was then thrown back by Hanson's, "Up yours."

Penhall looked at his friend, hiding one of his biggest grins, "Never knew you had a sister, Hanson." Tom threw the last pudding cup he had and watched it bounce off of his dear friend's head.


	9. Demons

Booker:

 "Stop it! Stop, PLEASE!" 

 Dennis woke to his mother screaming, loudly. She was begging and pleading, and Dennis in his foggy mind was trying to understand the situation.

Then it hit him, his father must be home. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and climbed out of his bed to race to his Mom's bedroom.

He banged harshly on the wall, "Mom?" She yelped in agony after a moment, "Hang on! Mom, I'm coming!" He shouted. He stepped back a few yards and drew in a quick breath, he rammed his body against the door and busted his way in. He found his father hovering over his mother, who was cloaked in blackness and hidden from his sight, he called drunkly at his son. 

 "G- get out, Dennis. Go to your r- room." He said before moving slightly and causing his vulnerable mother to whimper.

 "Not this time." Dennis said to his father who then got off the bed and shoved the mother of his child down.

Not giving him the chance to make a move, Dennis threw himself onto the man and wailed his fists as hard as he ever thought he could until he saw vivid red. His mother was backed in a corner, crying softly. When the fury left Dennis' fists, he gripped the back of his drunken father's collar, "Get out. Stay out. Don't come back." His father choked on the blood coming from his nose and filling his throat, "Abandon you? leave you? Is," he coughed, "that what you want?" 

 Dennis dragged him out the house and threw him forcefully on the porch, "You abandon us a long time ago." before slamming the door, he fell to the ground and sobbed quietly to himself. He stopped short to reach up and lock the door. The struggle to touch the chain and secure it, was gone. He was fourteen years old. 

Hanson:

 "Man, what's taking this guy so long?" Hanson complained. Again.

Doug sighed, "Why are you so impatient, Thomas?" Tom snorted, "Look who's talking." When Doug didn't respond, Tom went on, "Gets my mind off it.. or on it.. I don't know, seeing some of them in bad condition.. don't make it seem so bad.. and seeing 'em in good condition, makes it seem like it'll be okay.. I don't know, is that fucking crazy or what?" 

 Doug shook his head and patted his friend's shoulder. Throughout the days Tom's been in the hospital and Doug's constant visiting, he hadn't cried. He hadn't ate, much. He just sat in his bed, followed medical procedure that stated he was scheduled to leave in a few days as long as he obeyed.

Although he didn't want to leave since he hadn't seen Dennis, he had to get back to work and so did Doug. He said hello and goodbye to his friends, insisted frequently that Penhall could leave but Doug wanted to be there throughout the whole thing since he had the initial scare when he first heard of Booker's accident. Now, Tom was staring intently at the door waiting for someone to be rolled in and occupy the bed beside him. But when the person actually came in, Tom felt his heart drop. 

 "Jesus, Doug." He whispered to his friend, who looked up from doodling stupid little drawings on Tom's arm. 

 That snarky nurse came in with a wave of sorrow, "Poor guy's all broken up. He's on heavy anesthesia so he won't be up and about any time soon. I think he's a firefighter or something. It's a shame. Woke up on the table and everything..."

Tom and Doug listened intently, feeling the need to take off their invisible caps and tip it to him, "Kept saying some name since he got here, Ron or John, I don't know. Think it's his kid's name or brother. Anyway, we think people can still hear when they're under so go easy while you're still here, okay, boys?"

 The men nodded and she quietly walked out. Tom turned to Doug with tears filtering his eyes, "I'm scared, man." Penhall hummed in empathy and drew himself closer to the younger man and held him in his embrace. 

 "I'm so scared, Doug. What if Dennis is worse off? Like that poor guy." Tom said, pointing to the man in the other bed with his chin, "I mean, what if.. what if.." Doug shh'd him, rocking him back and forth which only sent him over the edge and made him cry, hard. Dennis used to do that with Tom, held him tightly and hummed softly. When something followed Tom home from a case, or when Valentine's day arrived or Amy's anniversary, Dennis was always there to keep Tom calm. 

 Later on, Tom said he was fine and Penhall obliged and sat back in his seat and promptly fell asleep. Hanson sat in his bed with screaming thoughts. What if Dennis doesn't make it out of surgery? What if the damage is beyond repair? What if he makes it but he's not the same? What if he forgets all the memories they shared? Oh my God...

 What if he forgets his feelings for Hanson? If he even had any left. Tom couldn't blame him after he walked out, if Booker found someone new or got over Tom. Or even hated him. He deserved it after being an incompetent asshole.

He started feeling hot and steamy tears and turned away from Doug to face the fireman unconscious in bed. His legs were cast, hanging by wires. His whole right arm was in a cast too, as well as a heavily bandaged abdomen. His face was bandaged a great deal as well, Tom took the injured man as a symbol of his heart. Taped up and a lost cause. 

 Even if Dennis did make it, their love ran cold and was long gone.


	10. Change of Position

Booker:

 He found himself back in the colorful field that only put anxiety in his heart. But something was different. He grabbed every part of his body, reassuring himself that he was back in his normal adult skin. He was grown, safe and... clean? 

 "Oh what, a white T-shirt now? I really liked that other shirt..." he said, rubbing the fabric. 

 "Symbolism." A clear voice said, directly into Booker's ear. Dennis flinched violently and fell to the ground. 

 "Okay, seriously?" he said, rising up, "We gotta have a safe word or something. You're scaring me shitless here, Tommy."  He dusted himself off subconsciously as Hanson stared silently at him. He moved closer to him and jumped back when he started talking again.

 "Symbolism. Your white T-shirt symbolizes something. Something you must figure out." Booker stopped and thought about it, "Well, you're wearing one too... so..." he scratched his head and made a face of extreme frustration, "I don't know, Tom! Just get me out of here!"

 Hanson started to talk but it wasn't him talking. In fact, his lips weren't even moving. It was indistinct at first but then Dennis realized it was the real Tom talking. This fake Hanson who didn't have the familiar dark soulful eyes was just a shell. His mouth was open slack and his eyes were staring into nothingness. 

 "I-I'm sorry Dennis. I love you so much and-d I just want you to be okay... even if you forget me or don't love me anymore, it's okay, alright?" 

 Oh my God... that's Tom! "Tommy!" Dennis shouted.

 "Just be okay. I need you to be alive. Please." Booker continued yelling for his lost lover but was not answered, "I miss you so much. I want you to be okay, I don't care about anything else." Dennis started to cry a bit as he listened to Hanson's pained words, that tattooed themselves over Booker's heart.

Dennis knew he was breaking the real Tom's heart by not being there. But where is _there_? Where is _here_? How do we get out of _here_  and back _there_? When Robot-Hanson mouth shut, Booker latched onto his shoulders speaking clear through his tears.

 "What do I do?" Robot-Hanson smiled and Booker could see himself in "Hanson's" eyes. What did he see?

 Unyielding determination. 

Hanson:

He was still watching the beaten up fireman through tired eyes, he sighed. The doctor, Tom's doctor, walked in, "How are you, Tom?" he said flipping the clipboard from under his arm to look at closer. Hanson sat up, "I'm cool, doc." The doctor nodded small, "Good, good." and went over to the other patient.

"How is he?" Hanson asked. The doctor hummed for a moment, peaking and picking at the man's injury, "Well, Tom, he should be fine... we were able to get a lot of the metal out of his limbs so physically, he's doing just fine. However, we need him to wake up and see if walking or operating his arm is a task or not. Plus his mental state as he hit his head rather hard. He's heavily sedated due to his leg and arm surgeries, but we think he may be in a coma. Won't know until he wakes up." Tom nodded, the doctor was halfway across the room to leave when something hit Hanson, "Hey Doc... you said metal, right?" the doctor nodded.

"Yeah, guy got himself into a rather brutal accident. It's a miracle we never lost him." Tom smiled lightly, "Firefighters are real brave, huh?" The doctor's eyebrows pushed together 

"Firefighter?" he gave a low chuckle before placing his hand on the doorknob, "Nurse sure is all mixy today.. No, Tom. He's a cop, like you. We're still trying to locate his department but his face is pretty beaten up for anyone to identify him. All we found was a badge and no ID or photos. His name is Booker.. Dennis Booker."

Tom's eyes widened, "Do - Doc?" Tom sputtered out. Hanson looked up as the doctor checked his beeper and spoke, "Tom, something wrong?" 

"Wha - what kind of accident was..." There was an incessant beeping, the doctor apologized in a rush and right before leaving, he answered Tom's question saying, "Motorcycle accident." As soon as the door shut with a soft thump, a bunch of mini thumps and rattles occurred when Hanson dragged himself to Dennis.

Dennis who was lying next to him the whole time. 

He reached him soon and traced the side of his partner's bandaged face. Hanson sobbed loudly, trying to talk. 

He begged and pleaded with Booker to wake up, hoping to a God he wasn't sure of to send him Dennis back. He cared nothing if he and the older man would be together but only if the older man was around to be. He ended his whispers when Doug awoke and put his arms around Tom as he cried. They were soon interrupted by a kind nurse that Tom had been discharged and could go home that night. Doug spoke for Hanson until the three were alone again. 

Doug patted his friend's back, "Come on, we gotta go..." Hanson remained still, his tears subsided. Looking at Dennis helpless and broken, he could only feel guilty. He knew he had to go home, he had to get back to work, back to life and reality. He lost Booker long before this. But he felt like he couldn't just leave Dennis all alone. It was the least he could do.

"It's all my fault..." he whispered, "If i had just -- man-ed up and told him i loved him... we wouldn't have fought, he wouldn't have left, and he wouldn't have been riding around on that stupid bike!" Doug pulled him back so that Tom had no choice but to look his friend in the eye.

"He was probably heading over to your place to push your stupid little buttons to admit you love him. He wouldn't let you go without a fight, you moron. This is Dennis Booker we're talking about." Doug said sternly, "It was just a freak accident... everything's going to be okay." Hanson sniffled, and allowed Penhall to remove him from the room. He threw a final look to Dennis and said, "I love you" feeling his heart break all over again.


	11. Facing yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had already written this story but stopped at this point so i don't really know what chapter is what but now that I'm writing again, it will be longer and much much better. So stick around!

Booker:

 Booker learned he was alone in a surgery room with his... body parts on the medical table, with little pieces of paper beside them. 'Heart, lungs, brain.' 

He watched as his heart beated, he poked at it, but he felt nothing within his own body. 

 "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

 Robot-Hanson's voice rumbled in but he wasn't physically there, "Face yourself." he said. Booker stared confusingly at the organs in front of him until one caught his eye, one that wasn't an organ at all. 

 "What's that, Robo-Tom?" the rumble returned, "Your soul." Dennis squinted, hoping his eye sight was making him read it all wrong, "Well why's it black and white? How come it's more black? Is it supposed to look like that?"

 There was a sigh.

Because only Dennis Booker could annoy the Robot version of his boyfriend.

 "Dennis, despite your taunts and jokes, you carry a lot with you. The white is the part that Tom has touched. Do you see it fading in, taking the absence of the black?"

Booker saw, he nodded, "If he hadn't, it would all be black and you wouldn't have been given the chance to fix it."

Dennis looked at the cracks and dents and noticed how the white seemed to cover it up, like glue or something. Booker chuckled low, waterfalls rushing back if he hadn't chosen to laugh instead, "He called me a mozzarella stick when I told him he fixed me."

No one answered and Booker figured he was on his own. He scratched his head and paced, occasionally looking back at the table. Okay, he thought, Robo-Tom said to face yourself. He scrambled back to the table and found his lungs, blackened very much. 

 "I'm sorry I've been killing you all these years. I might not be able to quit you..." he trailed off before spotting his soul and looking back again, he said solemnly, "but I'll try." he gaped in amazement as his damaged lungs suddenly weren't so damaged anymore. He felt a breath of fresh air in his own body, and took it as progress. The dark-haired officer gasped and smiled, "Alright, let's do it." 

 

Hanson - 

It had been weeks since learning of Booker's condition. They took him off sedatives since his limbs had healed rather nicely and were looking more and more normal. However because of his head injury when he crashed, he hadn't woken up and the doctors stood sadly corrected that he was in a coma.

He was stable except for a few scares -- abnormal heart racing, midnight sweats, and sudden rises in blood pressure. But as often as he asked, doctors politely confirmed Tom that Dennis was very much alive and there was brain activity. Hanson didn't say that he felt guilty and selfish for being grateful for the mini heart attacks everyone got when the monitors started rapidly beeping. They were his only reminder that Dennis wasn't a vegetable.

Fuller kept him doing paperwork, after Tom refused to go to schools with Booker in the hospital, and the captain held high empathy for his officer.

Personally, after being comfirmed of their friend's bisexuality, Harry and Judy tried relentlessly to set Tom up. They believed he needed to get back out there before the hospital visits and heartache devoured him. Penhall was the only one who knew how deep Hanson's feelings went. The others thought it was a fling or something new and fresh, and not the least bit serious. But even still Doug tried to get Tom to loosen his, even knowing the truth, grip on a man he may not even know so well anymore. 

"I'm not obsessed, Doug! And they said it was 50/50 that he'd wake up with memory loss." Tom snarled. Doug was standing uncomfortably in the middle of his friend's messy apartment, thinking he probably could've used a better word. But he was happy to get into the littered apartment he hadn't seen in weeks that he started rambling on and on and Tom was on edge and then he snapped for Doug to "Spit it out." And now...

"I mean Jesus Christ Doug!" Tom shouted, walking around like a mad man barefoot, "He's my friend too, and sometimes my partner. My professional partner!" he specified. Penhall stood there quietly as Hanson threw away empty containers and picked up dirty clothes, "I do care about him on that level, why don't you? He's still a cop, you know? Same as you and me!"

Penhall waited for Hanson to calm down until a silence hung between them and Tom finally faced him, by sitting on the armrest of the couch. He knew this was serious and lashing out at Tom wasn't going to do any good, he had to be the level headed one. 

"Look Tom," Doug said with a breath, "this thing is eating you alive. You don't go undercover anymore, you hardly eat from what I've seen but I see you pig out here,"

He gestured to the room, Hanson shifted and folded his arms irritably, "And when's the last time you and I hung out? Had a laugh, got a drink? You're not looking good, here, man. I'm lucky I even got through the door!" he boomed.

"I'm just saying..." Tom was staring at the floor and Doug had a feeling Hanson wanted to sock him one, so he gently placed his hands on Tom's shoulders and felt the tension ease out from under his fingertips, "I love you man, and I know you love him. But you have to take care of yourself." Doug smiled small and kindly, he patted his friend and then showed himself out.

Hanson took a small breath through his nose and thought about what Penhall had said. Maybe he was right. Gazing down the barrel of a gun, filling his empty heart with liquor, and crying himself to sleep day in and day out was not cutting it.

Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to straighten himself out and get back into the swing of things. Or at least, pretend to. During the day, to ease his friends' worry but then maybe through all the acting and deceiving he would start to feel better. Well, let's just get through the day, he thought. Baby steps, he promised. Starting with slowly releasing Dennis from his daily routine. And maybe even calling him Booker again..


	12. Change of Pace

Booker:  
"Ow, fucking God damn it, mother fucking SHIT!" Booker screamed, cradling his right hand to his chest. It felt like hours had gone by of him picking and picking the wrong organ over and over again -- Brain, heart, soul, knuckles -- and getting zapped to the bone.

Robo-Tom was proving to be the worst company as well.  
"You need to remember where it started."  
Booker groaned, "This isn't fucking easy, you know? Every time I try, I get shocked. Don't other people get a treat or something?"

And as dramatic as possible, Robot Hanson would vanish. Dennis sighed and slumped to the floor, burying his face in his exhausted hands. He thought about what Hanson's clone said, knowing he wouldn't _just_  say anything. He dissected Robo-

Tom's statement calmly, 'You need' okay, easy. 'You' meaning Dennis, 'need' meaning must. Okay, got it. 'Dennis must'.

'To remember' okay, together it means something that happened, to concentrate on it. 'Where it started' meaning when it began.

'Dennis must concentrate to when it began.' God, that doesn't make any fucking sense. The fury bubbled tears in his eyes but he refused to let them fall. It doesn't make sense. _Why_  doesn't it make sense? Booker stopped and looked up from his hands.

What if it's not supposed to make intellectual sense? What if it's literal? Okay, okay, Dennis thought as he jumped up and started pacing. What's the key word? 'Remember'! What could that connect to...

"Remember... you remember.. memories.. which are found.. in the.. BRAIN!" Booker shouted and raced over to his skull and touched it in success. Instead of being shocked, he was swallowed painlessly into an entire rundown of his deepest and earliest memories. Which actually were very painful.

Hanson --

His first night out might've been called overwhelming but for Tom, it was uncharacteristically exhilarating. First, Doug had gone over to Hanson's desk with a suspicious grin on his face, and the eyes of their indiscreet friends behind him.

Tom's plan to "be normal" had been successful and he could even honestly say he was starting to feel a bit better. Privately, it was a whole other story. He had begun treating Booker like a habit. After his revelation he cut off communication, referred to him in speech and thought by his surname, allowed his nickname to be used again when Doug slipped up and greeted him as Tommy, and even got himself back into the field of undercover work.

To solidify his new epiphany as a way of being, he stopped looking it as a survival method and tried his best to understand Booker's condition and statistics - it was all up to chance.

However due to his being antisocial in the beginning, he had been unable to feel release. He restrained himself from stroking a few out as to disconnect the pleasure that was tied to Booker's existence and memory. He knew he was still in love with the officer. But he ignored his feelings, or numbed them, until there wasn't much to feel.

So when Penhall suggested they all go out for a victory drink, Hanson was in no position to object. Since he had momentarily quit drinking to send away the worsen of his Booker pain with every sip he took to soothe it, it was his first drink in a long time.

The camaraderie between himself, his best friend, Judy and Harry were so heartwarming that when the drinks started to take hold, the small officer was staring to look like the same old Tommy Hanson. And because his wounds and secrets were out on the bar table anyway, he felt no need to censor himself.

"H-hey Doug, you see that guy over there?" Tom slurred quietly into Doug's ear, buzzed as hell. Penhall whirled his head over his shoulder and spotted tall, nicely build gentleman with a kind face and brownish-blonde hair.

"I'm going to get him to sle-sle-sle-- fuck my brains out."

Expecting his friend to be appalled by his callousness and back away, Hanson was surprised when Doug instead sputtered out a laugh and said, "Sure! Do whatever your little heart desires, Tommy," A drunk Doug Penhall threw his fist in the air like some revolutionary leader and called out, "More power to ya!" Before snorting a chuckle and catching Judy to talk about a case in a terribly wasted manner.

Hanson had thrown his head over his arm to watch the attractive man sit all alone at the further end of the bar. He blindly took a shot that Doug had ordered, Judy left and Harry indulged in one final round before he would carry Doug home as designated driver. As he looked back from the burn that sank deep down his throat, he caught the stranger eyeing him as well. They smiled knowingly at each other and Tom knew, he would get his wish.


	13. Fateful Friday Nights

Booker --

It started with a kiss. Just one little unexpected, heated, surprising, hot, lusty, passionate kiss. It was the kind of kiss you had after a long absence, the kind of kiss you have after a near life or death experience or an hour fueled of sheer worry, it was the kind of kiss you have when you know the person you're kissing is the love of your life.

That's how Dennis thought of it. It happened after an entire day of working with Tom. Booker knew already he was infatuated with the smaller officer and he also knew that Hanson didn't feel the same way, Hamburger was a ladies' man. Booker was too but there'd always be that one guy who'd mesmerized him and he'd be reminded of his bisexuality.

Nevertheless, he kept it as professional as he could even infuriating the other man to keep him close and clueless. This particular day, a few weeks after bowling, was not a professional or a love connection sort of day. It was a typical drug bust that should have ended in two weeks but was now going on for a month.

The dealers wouldn't expose their major buyer, the one who had supplied three young girls that led to their demise, because Booker was intimidating and menacing.

 Not to mention they weren't taking Hanson the least bit serious, frequently and sincerely calling him _Pretty._  After a night of being dragged along just for the dealers to back out at the last possible moment because Dennis gave one of them _a look,_  both men were exhausted and frustrated. Booker gave Tom a ride home in his Cadillac, the wall of silence was soon torn down.

"I'm so fucking sick of this shit!" Hanson groaned into his hands, rubbing his tiresome eyes, "This was supposed to be over weeks ago!" Booker sighed and tried his best to stay calm, "I don't get it either, something's off. These cases area usually elementary for us."

Angry, Tom looked up and gave Booker a dirty look, "I know why." He said, taking his fury out on the wrong person, "It's you!" 

Dennis made a look of total surprise and defense, whishing his head from the road and Hanson, "What the fuck do you mean it's me? It's my fault?"

"You're damn right it is! Why can't you lighten up, act normal for fuck sakes! You act like a goddamn cop around them, of course they're fucking suspicious!"

"oh - so -" Booker gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white under the accusation that dripped from alluring venom lips, "I'm not normal? I act like a cop? How 'bout you?" He said snapping a hard look at Tom's confused face, "Yeah, you! Fucking jailbait. 'Oh looks who's here, _Pretty_ and his bodyguard!', 'Hey _Pretty_ , wanna suck my cock for a shot?'. ' _Pretty, pretty, pretty_!'" He whined in a slight high pitched imitation.     

Dennis knew Hanson had enough and though Booker didn't mean what he said, especially the jailbait comment, he was dead tired and Tom was causing him to be both annoyed and aroused. But to Hanson, Booker thought, Dennis was just being his usual jack-ass self.

"Stop the car." Hanson said after a moment with a hand on the latch. Booker had already calmed himself when he realized why he was so infuriated with the brown-haired officer, "Look Tommy, I didn't mean-"

His voice was abruptly cut off by Tom's shout, "Just stop the fucking car, Dennis!" Booker flinched at the piercing voice and was happy - and sad - to see he had pulled up to Tom's apartment complex.

When he killed the engine, Tom jumped out and slammed the door shut. Dennis sat there, stunned at how just a few weeks ago he swore they had a moment in the bowling alley. He watched as Tom, in his thin denim jacket, curled his arms around himself and dragged his legs closer and closer to the apartment building.

And being Dennis Booker, he followed his twitch of an impulse and bolted out of the warm car in nothing more than his leather jacket. The wind nearly knocked him off his feet but he was persistent and it paid off when he caught up to Tom.

They were both holding themselves for warmth with teeth shaking expressions. Booker roughly grabbed a hold of Hanson and his stubborn shoulder until they were facing each other.  
"Tom! Wait -" He said. He remembered how fucking beautiful Hanson looked.

With his dark hair blowing away from his olive skin, sharp cheekbones, dark overtaking eyes and inviting rosey lips. When Dennis didn't say anything, clearly captivated, Hanson spoke up.  
"What Dennis? Got some more names you wanna call me?" He said, only slightly annoyed. More hurt, the older cop thought.

Booker shook his head, feeling apologetic, "No, no. I didn't mean what I said, Tommy." he replied, "I swear, I didn't mean it." He moved closer to Tom when the wind whistled in his ears and felt Hanson's warm breath on his cheek, "Then why'd you, you know," Dennis could hear how jumpy Tom was, "say it?" He asked.

"I dunno.. guess I was just mad about the case." Booker said with a lower of his gaze. He looked up when he noticed Tom's feet hadn't moved and he was waiting there patiently, "Why'd you say what you said?" He asked. Hanson gave a husky laugh before saying, "I don't know. Guess it was the case."

They smiled warmly at each other until Dennis got intense and serious and impulsive, "I don't think you're jailbait." Booker said, unwillingly speaking truth as he stared deeply into the smaller cop's eyes.

He was moving closer and closer and Tom hadn't seemed to notice. He laughed shortly, his hair blowing a few strands of hair into his face. He gave a half smile and beamed into Booker, "Does that mean you don't think I'm pretty?" He joked.

Booker shook his head slowly and gripped onto Tom's face, pouring his soul through his pupils, "Means I think you're beautiful." He said before leaning in and claiming Tom with his mouth, his hold, his love.

Dennis remembered, Hanson kind of stood there and just let him at first. Maybe he was frozen but Booker was on fire. He clawed his fingers up to Tom's waves and pulled him tighter and tighter by the roots, as if to make their skin blend into each other. Dennis' nerves were going off like fourth of July sparklers because Tom was kissing him back now, with a vigorous force, and he couldn't believe how _good_  Tommy tasted.

Using his tongue, he pushed all his passion from his mouth to Tom's. He was so taken by Hanson that he instinctively backed him up, the short distance, to slam up against the cold brick wall outside.

They both gasped at the impact and Booker took it as his only and last opportunity to breathe because with Tom under his fingertips, oxygen did not seem like the most important thing in the world.

Dennis' hands ran down Tom's chest and he felt Hanson shiver under him, sending desire signals to his downstairs brain. He gripped Tom's hips and pulled him as close as he could while sucking his brains out through his lips. The warm hot mouth with a sharp tongue that could do serious damage to Booker's fervent cock.

Hanson's hands found their way to Booker's neck, holding him in place. Then, Hanson started to press against Dennis and rub longingly against the taller body. Dennis felt the heated friction and a matching bulge. The erotic feeling caused him to groan wholeheartedly, especially when Tom mirrored the same moan of approval.

He pulled back breathlessly and pushed his forehead to Tom, who was panting and flushed, Booker started to pull back further but Tom gripped his shirt, whispering, "No, no, no." The older man smiled and leaned down to kiss Tom gently and Hanson couldn't help indulging himself in a deeper kiss, but Dennis didn't mind.

"I see you lightened up." Tom said after he backed up enough to see Booker comfortably, he gave a shallow swallow. Dennis chuckled softly, "I'm up all right." Hanson gave a smile but it passed after a second and was replaced with a shy look of hesitancy, "I don't know what I'm doing." He admitted.

Dennis leaned slightly away so he wasn't making any contact except for his right hand. It was stroking the edge of Tom's jaw and Booker felt him get goosebumps. His left hand was placed behind Tom, on the brick wall to keep him supported.

Tom looked down when Booker continued to stroke his face but didn't protest. Dennis quietly asked his chocolate brown swirl of hair, "What do you want?" At the ring of Booker's voice, it seemed, Hanson's head snapped up. He said surely: "You."


	14. Ring of Fire

Hanson:

 Tom didn't know, or remember, how they arrived at his apartment. He thought maybe a cab or the strange man's car but it didn't matter. That strange man was currently sucking Hanson's neck, leaving burning red love bites. Tom was wasted and kind of smiled at the pleasure he was receiving. Once Tom opened his door, they stumbled in and got entangled in each other's limbs. Since he hadn't been to ecstacy land, Tom wanted to take it slow to go back into normalcy with a bang. But the man had other plans.

"Go easy," Tom said in a shaky voice. The man had him pressed against the wall with his arms above his head and his lips all over Tom's neck. One of the man's hands roamed down to Hanson's belt and slowly started to undo it. The officer could feel himself losing all inhibitions, his heart hammering and groin stirring in a whimsical waterfall, "I mean it, slow down." He said more sternly. 

But the man just tightened his iron grip on Tom's wrists and bit down on the taunt flesh of Hanson's chest, "Fuck," Tom groaned at the sharp pain, "I'm serious! Will you take it down a notch?" He said aggressively. 

The man quickly stopped what he was doing and slapped Tom hard against his cheek with his right hand. Hanson could feel the heat radiating off his scorn skin. The man still had a solid hold on Tom even when the smaller man tried and struggled to break free, his cop instincts going into overdrive but having no affect. 

The man was strong and Tom was drunk, weary and weak, though his mind was alert and aware. The stranger roughly gripped Tom's chin and stared silently into him, Hanson froze cold and a shiver of fear ran down his spine. The man smirked an evil grin and before Tom's eyes could widen in terror, he was out cold.

 Booker:

They weren't drunk on alcohol but on a deep suppressed feeling of longing for each other. 

Moans caught in liquid throats, groans burned into the crooks of sweaty necks, mouths eager and impatient to taste and savor flesh that seemed to tremble and shake against the other's skin. Whispered names morphed into agonizing whimpers, shouts of passion and final climax in each other's ears.

It felt like it went on for days, Booker thought. Being exposed to Tom's long and lean body, and the feeling of the younger man's erection that seemed to grow when Dennis kissed him deeply. The older officer was fascinated by the beauty marks and bumps that were scattered like autumn leaves, all over Tom's body was Dennis' favorite part of the night. That having his arm around Tom's neck and tracing the outline of his existence was the most significant moment of their entire history. 

He was staring so thoughtfully that Tom must've felt it, he rolled over onto Booker's strong chest and watched him watch Tom. 

"Are you waiting for me to go to sleep so you can sneak out?" Tom asked. Dennis was drawn from his thoughts and focused on Hanson who had a firm hand on his chest with sad expectant eyes. Dennis stroked the length of his arm with his fingertips, "I'm not going anywhere, Tommy."

Hanson didn't look so sure and persisted, "You sure?" He said, "So tomorrow you're not going to ignore me or pretend this didn't happened? Blame it on a drink you never had?" Booker searched Tom's eyes and he knew Tom must've felt the exact same amount of love - or infatuation - that Dennis felt. He just didn't know that Booker held it as well. 

He knew Tom was a virgin before they spent their first night together.

Tommy was biting his lower lip and slowed his pace when the moment of truth approached. The raven haired officer assured him they didn't have to go that far tonight if Tom wasn't ready, but Hanson objected and said he wanted it now, he was just nervous.

Dennis said he'd stop if it was too much but once they began, Tom was naturally terrified until he saw Dennis hover above him in his seductive Adonis body with worried eyes and a soft smile Tom had never seen before. 

Hanson couldn't deny how much and how bad he wanted the other man, and for Dennis, the feeling was understood and mutual. 

He had to be gentle and considerate, "I'm not going to leave you, Tommy." He said, leaking honesty from his steady lips. What Hanson said next formed a lump in Booker's throat, "Why?"

Dennis didn't comprehend why Tom thought less of himself, but he didn't bring the young man down about it. Dennis had scars too.

"Because I know what it's like to have someone walk away from you." he said sadly dropping his gaze. Hanson leaned up and gave him a proper kiss before snuggling under his neck and wrapping his arms around Booker's midsection, "I won't leave you, either, Dennis."

When Booker closed his eyes, he didn't feel Tom in his arms anymore. Flying open his lids, he realized he was back in that pristine white room standing before his brain.

"Congratulations, Dennis, you succeeded." The monotone Tom said. Dennis felt sad when he thought about how distant the vivid and real memory was. But when his brain healed and he felt an ease in pressure in his own head, he wondered how the two were connected, "I don't understand."

"You never allowed anyone to get so close to you so fast or even knew you wanted to stick around so early." The voice of wisdom said, "Your father's abandonment kept you from being open to a true and pure love. As a matter of fact.." Robo-Tom said. A sudden light caught Booker's eye and he saw his heart heal and a strong, firm, electrifying sense of devotion for Tom in his heart.

The organs that he fixed started to fade away and all that was left were his knuckles and soul. Dennis figured what was next and took a deep breath. This was going to hurt more than anything else, he thought. But if it'd get him back to who he felt was the love of his life, he'd walk through fire. Pumping himself up, he touched his hands that sat on the table.

Knowing those bones were one of the biggest reasons why his soul was so dark.


	15. Alive and Awake

Hanson:

 When Tom came around, he felt a draft from his waist down and found his jeans were to his ankles. His bare chest was meshed into the crumpled sheets underneath him. He was drowsy and struggled to keep his eyes open.

Until.

A seething pain in his backside dug to his core and made him feel like he was being split in two. To make matters worse, it wouldn't stop. The man was tearing into delicate flesh and Tom suddenly woke with a start.

"Hmmmhumphhht," he said in a muffled panic voice. The man had stuffed Tom's own boxers in his mouth. Hanson tried to whish his head, hot tears streaming down his beautiful violated face. It seemed like all his senses were returning one by one.

The man had the smaller man's arms locked above his head - tied to the bed posts by rope and his long fingers in Tom's hair. The pain was unbelievable and far from the love making he and Dennis had. The strange man was rough, uncaring, and only concerned for his own needs.

His sweaty body pressed to the entire length of Tom's body and felt like a charcoal blanket, pressing into crooks and cracks Hanson didn't even have. His foreign breath warm against the back of Hanson's neck, the smaller officer could feel and hear every groan of pleasure, the man got from Tom's immobile body. 

The young man started to sob, begging and pleading for the man to stop but to no avail. When the man started to moan louder and with hollow base, Tom became aware of how close the man was. Hanson wondered if he was wearing a condom, hoping to God he was, but he stopped short when the man spoke.

"They didn't say you'd be this tight, _Pretty_." The man whispered in a choked voice. Hanson froze under the demeaning nickname he was forced to adopt from the last case he and Dennis had investigated. He quickly turned deep into his thoughts to remember that the deaths that occurred via drugs had stopped when the suspects ran off before Dennis and Tom could have any cause to charge them. 

Male rapes had followed soon after and the two men were once again reunited. The accident put a halt to the investigation and it eventually ran cold when no more rapes were confessed. Realizing now the drug and rape cases were connected made it all too real and Hanson flopped around like a fish out of water, trying desperately to scream through the gag in his mouth.

He stopped short when the man pushed cruelly into him and Tom let out a pained groan. Soon enough the man's euphoric shout in Tom's ear signaled his climax, the officer was grateful he was done but the man was just getting started. He ripped at the stem of Tom's hair and Tom felt two distinct pains.

One was his hair that felt scalding hot and the second was the feeling of his body being lifted off the bed by the man's torturous cock. The man released Tom and pushed him callously on the bed, with a rumble.

Hanson started to pull at the ropes when silence exuded, figuring the man left the room but he was dead wrong. Long flames whipped at Hanson's naked back as he cried out in agony. It was mostly inaudible but the sound of leather cracking at bare flesh was indistinguishable.

He squirmed helplessly when it happened four more times. With every slash the man asked him profound questions. 

"You like it rough, don't you?" he called out amusingly. 

_Crack!_

"That's why you're with that big brooding asshole, aren't you?"

_Crack!_

"He didn't want to fuck you anymore, did he  _pretty?"_

_Crack!_

"Who fucking would?"

_Crack!_

He stopped and Tom noticed the liquid sound coming from every blow. He felt like someone had dumped hot coal on top of his back and pressed down, every time he breathed. The man found his way to Tom's side, and made a face at the weeping, snot induced man who was praying for a quick death. 

"Gross." the man said, sniffling his nose, "You filthy whore. No wonder he walked out." He said before smirking that evil look and gently slapping the cheek he first striked. Tom jumped at the contact, "See you soon, pretty."

Then, he was gone. 

Booker:

 It was a tense day.

They were pulled off the drug case and quickly scattered onto gay rapes and bashings in a school not far from Narcotics High. Booker was sent in as a basher and Tom as a decoy. It was the worst case for Dennis because of Tom's role in all of it. This day had become too much.

The chapel was relatively empty and Booker was silent as Tom drove them back. Hanson tried to talk to him but the older officer remained quiet. Shaking his head no, nodding once for yes, shrugging indifferently. And never making eye contact with his small lover all the while.

By the time they arrived outside the chapel, Dennis was already going inside and up towards the lockers. Hanson was looking for him and swung his legs forward when he found Booker. 

"There you are." Tom said somberly. Booker grunted in response and flung open his locker to avoid looking at the other officer. Even without Tom's confused stare, Dennis could feel the boiling rage from the pit of his stomach. 

After moments passed without a word spoken, Tom sighed in obvious frustration. He slammed the locker shut to put himself in front of Dennis who was still resisting Hanson's glare.

"It's not that big of a deal." The younger officer said matter-of-factly.

That's when Booker looked up with fire in his eyes, " _Not a big deal?_  Not a big deal, Tommy?" he said with a roar, "Some guys who enjoy fucking the unwilling isn't a big deal? How about if and _when_ they take an interest in you?"

Hanson jumped forward, forcing Dennis to back up, "Its a fucking _case,_  Dennis! Nothing's going to happen to me. It doesn't fucking matter who they're into. I mean, that is the point of all this! To strike their interest and take them down."

Booker broke then and flew his fist at the locker next to Tom, just an inch from his face too, "It _does_ fucking matter! What if I'm not there and you get caught alone? Don't you tell me it isn't a big deal or it doesn't matter, Tommy, because that's bullshit!"

As silence filled the open space Dennis turned to the locker with a heavy sigh, hiding his tortured face into overlapping  arms. He heard Tom shuffle over to him and place a gentle hand at the small of his back, "What is it, Dennis? Really." He asked softly. 

Booker turned his head, noticing how close they actually were. Their eyelashes sweeping each other's cheek and dark eyes staring into matching pupils, "You're not there." He answered simply, "You don't.. you don't hear how fucking crazy they are when they talk about _new meat_  they want to slaughter. How they want to rip apart some kid and then beat his guts out just for the hell of it. But that's still nothing compared to the sick fantasies they think up for you."

Dennis admitted, "And I don't want you to know. It's scary, so fucking scary how much they want to hurt you." He said turning his back to the locker and bringing Tom to the front of him by the younger man's narrow hips, "I couldn't and wouldn't be able to live with myself if they ever hurt you. I give a shit about you!" He whispered sharply, stroking Tom's cheek with his right hand while his left dangled clenched, lightly banging the wall behind him. 

"I swear to God, Tommy. If they ever hurt you -- I'll fucking kill them." he said, roughly hitting the lockers once, "Someone, anyone tries to hurt you and you tell me. I'll fucking kill them, I swear. I swear." he said emotionally. Hanson had nodded in understanding and they embraced in a long unspoken agreement. 

As Dennis could remember the softness of Tom's hair on his neck and strong arms around his slim waist, it all started to fade. 

Now, Booker was in a plain room with no furniture and white walls, "You did it." a voice said.

"Did what?" he asked questionably, "I used my fists, I didn't fix anything. I'm still the same fuck up I used to be." he said sadly. Booker knew he always got too attached to his lovers but Tom was different from the start and he fell so hard that he wouldn't doubt that was the reason Tom didn't love him back.

"No, no Dennis. You used your fists for the right reasons. In the past, it was against rejection and abandonment as a kid and as an adult. But this time, you used them to protect someone else. You are not a fuck up. You have to remember that and this," the voice said, "You are not your father and you are not your past. You cannot keep killing yourself. Fight for the right things but know that sometimes that doesn't require physical damage. And most importantly, do not stop loving who you love. No matter what."

Then a warm glow rumbled inside Dennis and seemed to expand through the length of his being, lifting him off the ground and up above to a blinding light. 

Next thing he knew, he sat straight up from the hospital bed he didn't know he was in and became surrounded by doctors and nurses he didn't know. They were gasping and smiling and talking rapidly but all he heard was white noise.

And the echo of Robo-Tom's words.


	16. Loner's heartache

Hanson:  
He asked for two weeks off.   
Three days in, he handed in his resignation letter. Everyone tried to contact him but his voicemail said the same thing every time they tried.

" _Hey, it's Tom. I'm on vacation. Leave a message_." In a monotone voice. 

 Doug went over to his place everyday at first, wailing on the door, asking if he was home but received no answer. Eventually he gave up and stopped coming but what he didn't know was that Hanson was there the entire time.

After the man left, Tom went on autopilot mode and dragged himself to the bathroom. The image will forever be burned into his memory. His reflection, the red mark on his cheek from where he was first hit. His eyes were washed out and watery.

His hair was uneven and when he ran his hand through it, he pulled out clumps of freshly ripped roots. He felt a steamy tear roll down his cheek and fall off his jaw. He walked over to the shower and slowly stepped out of the little clothes he was wearing and turned on the water as hot as he could stand. His face was a blank, no sadness or fear. Just blank.

He braced his hands on the tile wall and allowed the water to run down his back. He winced under the heat, but watched the blood swirl down to the drain by his feet. When the redness ceased, he grabbed a fresh bar of soap and cleansed himself raw.

He suddenly came alive, scratching at his flesh until it glowed crimson. He flinched as he began cleaning his lower body, noticing the blood and semen that dripped from his thighs. His hole felt swollen and ached under any contact. But he had to wash the man off him, so he didn't stop until the water started to cool.

Once he stepped out, he dried himself and pulled on sweatpants and an oversized sweater. When he entered the bedroom, tears welled up and he urgently stripped the bed and got his clothes that were spotted with blood and sperm and put them in a black garbage bag. Running outside barefoot, he tossed the garbage over his shoulder and wiped his nose.

He froze when the man's words came to mind.   
" _Gross. You filthy whore. No wonder he walked out."_ The voice rang clear and dominate, nearly dropping Tom to the floor. Paranoid, he threw his head from side to side, feeling like someone was in the shadows watching him. 

When he heard a branch crack in the distance, he was off like a bullet and rushed into his apartment with a heavy breath and terrified heart. He locked his door quickly and closed all the curtains in his home.

Tom didn't know what to do. He couldn't tell Doug. He couldn't tell the Captain. But they would notice the change in him, if he walked in with a funny walk and fresh bruises. Impulsively, he ran to the phone and dialed Fuller.

"Captain Adam Fuller."

"Hey coach.." he cleared his throat. 

"Hanson? Are you sick? You sound terrible."

"No.. I mean," Tom kicked himself for not going with the assumption, he was panting and on the verge of sobbing all over again, "Yeah, little under the weather. Listen, I --"  
"Don't even ask, Hanson. Take two weeks off and feel better."

Tom felt tears in his eyes from the tenderness of his Captain's voice, "Thanks Coach." 

After that, Tom remained wrapped in a fleace blanket in front of the TV. The silence of the room was too much to bear, and whenever he closed his eyes he swore he felt the heat again. The suffocating heat, that pressed him deeper and deeper into oblivion. Terrified to sleep and the man returning, Tom kept himself up constantly.

He drank coffee, took pills to keep himself energized and always had some sort of sound on at all times.  
Hanson knew he could live off his savings for a while, and once that ran out he knew it wouldn't matter. The gun that lay on the coffee table was staring up at him, waiting for him. He didn't have the nerve now and thought that if the man returned, he'd kill himself before the stranger got a chance to touch him. He couldn't bear to face any of his friends or visit Dennis, because inside Tom felt like a good for nothing whore.

 _He_  had seeked out the stranger. _He_  let him into his home. _He_  still loved Booker and went out looking for someone to fuck. The man was right, Tom was a whore. He deserved it after he deliberately went against his feelings and devotion to Dennis.

Anyone would be able to smell the filth on him, and he thought maybe the man was right. Maybe that's why Booker left him, maybe he knew all along how much of a whore Tom was. The shame was unbearable, so he decided in a few days he would sneak into the chapel as early as possible and hand in his notice. When he did, he chose to erase every mark of himself and cleaned out his entire desk.  

He raced home sweaty and anxious, he paced about -- thinking what he could do next and gasped when he realized what a surprise this would be to everyone and made to avoid seeing any of them to explain. He made the voicemail and put on his headphones, listened to his records in the corner of the room facing the door. 

Soon Doug's voice leaked through the door, as it would for a few more days. He didn't sound angry, he just seemed concerned and confused. Hanson knew if he let him in, he would confess and Doug would give him that look.

The look of disgust. But Tom didn't know what he was saying and didn't want to know. He wept silently at the best friend he had to leave, Doug was too good to be involved with him. He stopped coming after a while, and Hanson was grateful for it in a twisted way. 

He spent most days cleaning his apartment, racing out in the morning to withdraw cash, ordering stocks of food so he wouldn't have to hear the door rumble every time he got hungry and deleting unheard voicemails until one day. He programmed the phone to go straight to voicemail, but this time he couldn't end it quickly before he heard the person's voice because he was in the bathroom. This time was different. 

It was Doug's voice,

" _Hey Tom.. I don't know if you're back from vacation or not, I kind of doubt you ever left.. I know you hate traveling..."_

Tom chuckled, for the first time, at Doug who seemed to always know Hanson inside and out.

" _Anyway, look.. um, I don't know if things are going to work out with you guys but.. Booker's awake.. he's going through a bit of a rough time.. physical therapy and forced leave from work until he's better.. he's going to be okay, same as he was but it's draining.. won't even let any of us see 'em..therapy's an around the clock thing.."_

Tom knew what Dennis meant by that. He hated people to see him weak, Hanson used to think it was an ego thing but he understood now it was the vulnerability. 

" _So I figure he wouldn't be oppose to seeing you.. you know he loves you, Tom.. okay!"_ Hanson heard Doug take a deep breath and give a nervous laugh, " _Just thought you'd want to know. Oh and hey, I'm always here for you, man. I don't know what's up with you lately but Book's okay.. he didn't die.. Everything's going to be okay.. Fuller thinks you're having some sort of moment, so he's holding your desk for you when you're ready to come back... You're still Tommy Mcquaid!"_ Then he hung up.

Hanson didn't know how to feel or what to say but his stomach made the choice for him as he scurried over to the toilet to vomit forcefully. When he finished he leaned against the porcelain, pulling at his stems and hitting himself violently on the head while tears flowed down.

Dennis was awake. His colleagues had no clue. Doug wasn't angry at him. But he was broken, and there was no sign of Tom Hanson. 

Booker:

When he woke up, it seemed like he was being blinded by a million points of light. The room was on an axis and it was spinning like the wheels on a Ferrari at top speed. Everyone, doctors and nurses, kept picking at him and Dennis really didn't take a liking to it.

 "What are you doing?" he demanded in a shaky voice, "Get off me! What the _fuck_ is going on?"

"Sir, you have to calm down --" a small nurse said.

"I _am_  calm. Why am I here, I'm not supposed to be here, I --" he tried to slip out of the bed but that's when he noticed his motionless limbs, a sob caught in his throat, "What happened to me? I don't understand, don't remember how.."

A doctor stepped forward and explained to Booker that he had been in an accident and he was in a temporary coma until just a few moments ago, "Do you remember anything?" the kind doctor asked,"Ye-yeah.." Dennis swallowed, "I remember Robo-Tom and.."

The doctors and nurses gave him a puzzled look and Booker realized it was probably a result of the coma. He remembered everything in the dreamlike state he was in, but he wondered why he couldn't remember the accident. He didn't want to ask though, because then he'd have to explain what he saw and heard, and felt. Those weren't things he wanted to share. 

"Dennis, you'll have to stay here. For physical therapy, for your legs. Is there anyone I can call?"

Booker flinched at the question. Could he call Tom? He couldn't blame Hanson if he never wanted to see him again or if he even moved on in the time Dennis was absent, the revelation he endured during his coma made him realize how flawed he was and how terrible he must seem to the younger man. Booker felt like he was possessive, jealous, and angry at the time he was with Hanson. But no more of that Dennis Booker! He would be better, move forward and hurt Tom never again. But he still needed to call someone.

"Um.. Penhall. Call Doug Penhall." He answered before the doctor nodded and escorted himself as well as the other nurses out. He didn't know why he said to call Penhall but he thought maybe if he spoke with the man, got an update on Hanson -- maybe he'd be able to move on too. He loved the smaller cop, thought maybe he always would but he couldn't continue, if all it did was hurt him in the end.

Few days passed when Doug arrived at his hospital room. The agonizing hours of physical therapy sent Dennis into an emotional roller coaster. He refused to get angry at his legs and just tried to do his best in the moment he was working,   
still he found himself cry pity tears at night.

"Never would I think that Dennis Booker would call on me!" Doug had shouted when he waltzed in. Dennis had just completed a session and was feeling moody.

"Yeah well, guess it was about time hell froze over, huh?" he said, crossing his arms.

"Oh come on, don't be like that. Hey sorry I didn't come when you first called, I just wrapped a case and had to tell Fuller about your situation. By the way, you're on leave pal, enjoy your freedom! Anyway, so here I am. What's up?" Doug was always a generally sunny person, but this time made Dennis feel a little on edge.. and suspicious. 

"What's going on, Penhall? You're never this happy to see me." he questioned. 

Doug shrugged and made weird sounds to show that he had no idea what Booker was saying but gave in with a sigh when he saw the worry and seriousness in the injured officer's eyes, "Okay.. it's Tom. He took two weeks off because he was _sick_  and then two, three days later there's a resignation letter in the Captain's office and Tom's desk is cleaned out. His voice mail says he's on vacation and he hasn't answered the door so maybe he is, maybe he isn't. Fuller thinks he's going through something, he's not really sure, so he's not taking the quit note too serious. I don't know, I'm worried but Tommy always comes to me when he's not okay."

Booker took in his words and tried to let it sink in. He knew how much Tom loved being a cop, that was off. He also knew that he would go to Doug in time of need, that was strange. He decided to ask what happened before the sudden changes. 

"well, I um.." Doug started, scratching the back of his neck nervously, "We went out for a drink, and finally got Tom to be Tom again, you know?" 

Dennis heard the guilt in Penhall's voice and felt very uneasy, "What happened next?"

Doug cleared his throat and began playing with the fabric around his wrist, "He went home with someone.." he whispered. 

Booker knew exactly what he said but couldn't contain his pounding anger, "He _what?!"_

The anxiety sent Doug into his nervous spasm of speech, "He went home with someone! Some guy at the bar. Look, I'm sorry Dennis, but we were just trying to get him back in the light you know and -- "

"Who's _we_?!" Booker pressed.

Penhall shrunk under the trouble and lack of consideration he had done. He was drinking and way up high to the skies and he just wanted his best friend back. He was being selfish and now Booker was paying the price, "Me.. Harry and Jude..."

Dennis took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. The doctor came in moments later to tell Booker they had to take him out to run tests. As they placed him in his wheelchair, Doug caught a glimpse at his broken down limbs and gasped. The doctor had grabbed the wrong chart and left for a second, a second long enough to allow Booker his words.

"Go home, Doug. Don't bother coming back, you or anyone. You're _Tom's_  friends, not mine. I'll deal with _this_!" he pointed sadly at his legs, "my-fucking-self." Then the doctor came back and wheeled him out.

Tom didn't love him, he moved on. That was fine, because Dennis would do just the same. 


	17. Rain down on me

Booker:

Four grueling weeks of therapy had Dennis out for a daily run. Four frustrating weeks had Dennis walking without a limp. Four concentrated weeks had given Dennis back his strut. As he signed out his discharged papers, he wondered what the new Dennis could do. Where that Dennis wanted to go. Who he wanted to be with. After his rejection from Penhall, he hadn't seen any of the other officers at his hospital bedside. He was grateful and didn't regret it, he needed the time to get himself together without reminders of Tom. He sighed as his thoughts moved to Hanson. The pretty _former_  officer that captivated Dennis from the start and broke his heart, all the same. Booker came to terms with Tom's affair and didn't feel any anger toward the younger man, they had parted ways when Hanson didn't return Booker's love. They were grown adults, they could get on without each other. All good things come to an end. Time heals all wounds. It's for the best.

All those stupid bullshit clichés were rewinding in Dennis' mind. He knew they were ridiculous, because he still loved Tom and held him dearly in his heart, but they were the only thing keeping him going. He had to believe them with a force or go down in flames. 

To avoid further and deeper thoughts, Booker drove himself to the chapel before he would be back at work and walked in with a strong sense of confidence and slight arrogance. 

Good old Dennis Booker. 

But no one was there to even see the new, healthy Dennis Booker. _I mean_ , he thought, _they're here but its like a ghost town_.

"Hey Jude, what's up with the zombie house?" he asked the lean officer who sat at her desk, staring off into nothingness. She looked up with surprise and stumbled over her words, not a normal thing.. "Oh, hi Dennis.. um what?" she responded absently. He shook his head and walked over to Harry's desk but he was answering calls like a drone so Dennis turned on his heel and spotted Doug, up on the balcony pacing thoughtfully. Booker took two steps at a time and was going to drill Penhall but the other man didn't seem to notice his presence. Dennis just stood there for awhile until Doug suddenly stopped and slammed his fist into a nearby locker.

"What the fuck, Penhall, you're breaking my stuff already?" Booker joked lightly but it was missed on the other man's side.

"Not now, Booker." he said sternly, still spacey like Hoffs was. They talked but it was just sounds coming from open mouths, their true voices locked in the vault of their minds. And why, Dennis wanted to know. He stepped forward and gave Penhall a sincere look, "What's going on?"

Then out of nowhere it felt like, Doug looked into the dark eyes and collapsed into erupting tears. Instinctively, Booker got a strong firm hold on the bigger man before he could fall to the ground, inevitably, but he made the trip slower. For a moment, all Doug did was cry quietly and Dennis just held onto him silently. When he felt he got it out of his system, Penhall looked up with a gleam of a smile in his eyes and humor on his tongue, "Bet you never thought you'd see a sight like that in your life."

Booker laughed and playfully shoved the officer off him, "Hell freezes over a lot nowadays." They sat on the floor with steady grins until Doug took a deep breath and the somber look was back in his pupils, "Book... Dennis.. I, I have to tell you something."

Booker felt nervous but he also felt sure, sure that his new outlook on life couldn't possibly be struck by the frighteningly sounding news he was about to be told. 

He really shouldn't believe in stupid bullshit clichés. 

Doug spoke slow, a change from the frantic monologues he was usually accustomed to, and the words were like branding irons to Dennis' skull.  

"R-raped? Are you.. Are you sure?" Doug nodded sadly and Booker wished he could've accepted it that way, "No.. no, you're fucking lying. That's shit! You're sick, Penhall. Why would you make some shit up like that?" he demanded with angry tears. This time, Doug wrapped his arms around the other man but Booker shoved him off, "Why would someone do that? Why would anyone want to hurt Tommy?"

Penhall shrugged, understanding the injustice, "He said it was some guy he met, but that's all he said. It's a long story but look, only you and me know."

Booker's eyebrows pushed together as he gestured wordlessly to the the officers below them, "I sort of went off on them. Tom just told me awhile ago and made me swear not to tell, I was still processing it. Anyway, Judy was being all 'when is his majesty to return?' and I just snapped -- said, 'He quit. He's _not_  coming back!'" then came up here to just, fucking figure it out." Dennis just nodded along, Doug hadn't given him any specific details and he figured it was because he was trying to spare him the graphics, or because he just didn't know. Either way, only one person could give Booker the answers he needed. He stood up and turned to walk off, but stopped when a question Doug _could_  answer popped into his head.

"Why did you tell me?" 

Doug looked up at him with tired yet obvious eyes, "You love him." Booker wanted to disregard this fact but he couldn't. He gave a gentle smile and thanked Penhall for everything. His calm demeanor fading as he walked back outside, where it started to pour heavy rain. He drove himself to Hanson's apartment, not allowing any sobs to escape his throat or knuckles to beat against the steering wheel. By the time he parked and was in front of Tom's door, he was soaked to the bone. He banged harshly on the door, a croak of a voice demanded his identity. 

"It's me." He said hoarsely, the door swung open and he swallowed his overwhelming emotions at the person in front of him, "Hi, Tommy."

Hanson:

Doug came over, out of the blue and gave Tom no warning whatsoever. Hanson was in the shower, his midday scrubbing session. He didn't even hear the incessant banging on the door or Penhall telling him that he didn't care if he broke Tom's door. When he walked out of the shower, in his usual oversized clothes, he felt different. He grabbed his gun and stalked into the living room and found Doug sitting patiently on the couch. Tom's heart back in his chest.

"Wha -- what are you doing in here?! I'm not here, I'm on vacation!" Hanson sputtered out, lowering his gun. Penhall had taken a soft breath in and hesitantly rose to his feet.

"What the hell happened to you, Tom?" he asked, lifting a curious hand to Tom's pale cheek. Hanson immediately slapped it away with a quick, "Nothing." he walked off to the kitchen, where he delicately cleaned dishes in the sink. Doug followed him in disbelief and watched how casual he was. As if he didn't know.

As if Tom didn't know he was as thin as he'd ever been or that his once olive skin tone was now paleish grey with forming bruises. He looked weaker, tired. Like he was dying from cancer. His hair was uneven and looked over washed, the color not having the same golden brown or bounce it used to have. Doug looked at the apartment and it all looked tip top. It was clean, so clean you could eat off the floor. It reeked of floor cleanser, and all the remotes and CDs seemed to be lined up exactly by measured size. There was only one plate and cup in the sink and Tom was still washing the plate. 

Doug put a calming hand on his wrist to slow his friend down, "What's going on?" he asked. He didn't know why or how it could even result to the next reaction but Tom dropped his arm from under Doug's hand and accidentally broke the plate.

"God, fucking damn it, Doug! Now I have to clean this up!" he said agitated, he dropped to his knees and carefully picked up the pieces and placed them into his cupped hand. From above, Doug could see little patches where Tom's hair seemed to be.. ripped out.

"Tom..." he started, he wanted to pet the man's hair and ruffle the waves between his knuckles but every time he touched him, Hanson jumped three steps back, "You better tell me what the fuck is going on or I'm taking this to Fuller to get you evaluated, you're freaking me out!" Doug cried. Hanson looked up, a sea of tears at the front of his eyes. He sighed that he was giving in and plopped himself fully on the floor and Doug followed suit. 

He continued picking up tiny invisible shards of glass, "Um.. I... well, I... okay... do, do you remember that guy, at the um... at the bar?" he asked quietly, Doug could barely hear him and moved closer but not close enough for Tom to be scared. Why was he scared, anyway? He knew Tom had a thing about working his way around the subject but if it made him comfortable, he would endure. 

"Yeah, you were.. you know, you liked him. What about it?" 

Hanson sighed and swallowed, cleared his throat and didn't look Doug in the eye anymore, "Guess he didn't like me too much.." he mumbled, "well, he... I took him home and things got a little... rough.." he said in a shaky voice.

"Rough? What, like kinky?" Doug was confused and his expression could have been the national symbol. 

Tom gave a hollow chuckle, "Well there _was_ bondage.. and hitting." he mumbled again but this time Doug heard him.

"Woah, did you say hit? Did he hit you, Tommy?" his eyes looked furious. 

"Well... yeah, but I, I deserved it. See, I was crying and probably looked really... disgusting and.. gross.."

Doug shot off the floor, " _Deserved_  it? _Crying_? What the fuck happened when he went home with you?"

Hanson jumped off with a purpose and yelled, " _He_ didn't go home with me! _I_  took him home! Okay, Doug? It's my fault. I was the one who said I wanted him to fuck my brains out when I was too drunk to even have a fucking brain and -- "

Doug shouted, "Hold it!" and walked up to Tom with a closer look, " _Did he rape you_?" Hanson's courage evaporated under the accusation, his voice tiny, "I never said that." he said shortly. 

"You didn't fucking have to, Tom!" Penhall screamed, "You just said, you were to drunk to have your head screwed on. He _hit_ you. You were _crying_. Are you telling me this is some bullshit foreplay I never heard of?!"

Hanson lowered his gaze to the floor in shame, a soft broken hiccup fell from his lips, "I'm sorry." he said.

Penhall watched the single tear roll off his friend's cheek and his heart gave to the young man who was once so strong and brave and even beautiful, now looked weak, fragile, and afraid. 

He wanted to hug him but when he stepped forward, Tom winced back. 

"I'm so sorry, Tom.. but we can fix this. We can get this guy, send him to the fucking chair or something! We just gotta talk to Fuller and --"

Hanson's head snapped up, "No." he said with a base in his throat, "I'm not telling anyone."

Doug softened some more, "Tommy, you have to get help.. do a rape kit, get therapy!" he explained but Tom wasn't having it.

"No, Doug!" he screamed at high pitch, "They can't do a kit because I got rid of all the evidence. I'm not seeing a shrink. I just want this all behind me!" He stepped up and looked coldly into his best friend's eyes, "And you aren't going to tell _anyone_." Penhall swallowed. Tom had never looked so serious, scary, and scared.

The air had Doug pulling at his collar, "Fine, okay, fine. Mouths shut. You don't want me here, I gotta go, I'll see you later.." he said, heading for the door. 

Tom was suddenly at his side at once and grabbed him by Doug's shirt, "I'm sorry, Doug... I'm fine, I swear! I just, want this to blow over, you know? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." 

He said with a pleading look in his dirty brown eyes, begging for forgiveness. Doug couldn't shove him off, Tom was his best friend and he loved him. But he had to get out and think about how real and different everything was and watching Tom, like a walking corpse, wasn't helping him to clear his head and organize his thoughts. 

"It's okay, Tommy. I shouldn't have used the key I stole from you to get in here. Call me when you need me." he said, smiling to the young man who had a little grin of his own pulling at the side of his mouth. As Doug stepped outside of the door, Tom called out to him.

"Promise?" 

Penhall turned and saw Tom standing behind the line of his apartment. He knew exactly what Hanson meant, "Promise." he said solemnly, with his two fingers up.

When Doug left, Tom walked around his apartment. Checking windows, closets, under the bed and couch. When he found no one hiding, he started to break down. He had just told his best friend what happened after he swore to himself he wouldn't and now Doug knew. He fell to the ground in the center of the living room, punching himself until his brain jumbled like jello in a jar. He screamed into his hands while long fingers pulled at his stems. He fell to the ground and into an exhausted nap. He woke soon after and stumbled drunkenly to the window to check for new cars and found none, however it started to rain and he closed his blinds at the miserable weather. He staggered his way to the CD player and found his Phil Collins disk.

The slow drums and shrieking guitar playing his song.

 _You know I never meant to see you again_  

_But I only pass by as a friend, yeah_

_All this time I stayed out of sight_

_I start wondering why_

_Now I, ooh now I wish it would rain down, ooh yes I wish it would rain_

_Rain down on me_

Tom swayed mystically to the soft sounds of Phil's voice and allowed him to speak for him, "I wish it would rain on me!" Hanson sang wholeheartedly. Then a banging at his door occurred.

_Oh I never meant to cause you no pain_

_And I realize I let you down_

_But I know in my heart of hearts of hearts_

_I'm never gonna hold you again_

Tom stopped spinning and yelled over his escape, "Who are you?" He waited to hear and dialed the volume down, he heard a muffled voice, "It's me." it said. 

Hanson moved fearfully to the door, unable to identify who the voice belonged to. But whoever it was, he knew Hanson was there. Angry at the conflict, Tom swung the door open and it banged against the end wall. 

There he saw him, the brown-haired man gasped.

Dennis Booker. _The_  Dennis Booker. Who looked the same but somehow different. He was wearing a soaked white shirt and dark blue jeans, his jet black hair was dripping and few strands fell to his brooding face. He was clean shaven and Tom could see his rippling muscles, he wondered if Booker was tense or if he had just ran to Tom's home. Hanson knew that he definitely did look bigger, stronger. Dennis always had a built but he just looked a bit different, and somehow better if that was possible. He looked _good_. So good it broke Tom's heart. His voice croaked, "Hi, Tommy."

The former officer looked up into the familiar intense eyes and saddened. He was looking into a new Dennis Booker but Dennis was looking into a beaten down Tom Hanson. 

If he even was still Tom Hanson. 


	18. Stuck in a Moment

Tom gave a shy smile to the beautiful brooding man, who was breathing a bit heavily through parted lips, in front of him. He let the taller man in while feeling like his heart had jumped a little too high, causing the veins that surrounded it to crinkle. Both men stood in the middle of the apartment, Dennis dripping and Tom swaying back and forth on his feet, looking silently at each other. Hanson was a few feet from him with his arms crossed and his eyes trailing down Booker's body and face in wonderment, "You're alive." he said, unexpectedly.

Dennis moved forward at the sound, a slow smile appearing on his wet lips, "Yep. I'm alive." he said. He had completely forgot about what Doug told him back at the chapel. He was well aware of Tom's actual appearance, he looked torn apart. He was wearing clothes that were a little too big and he seemed a bit timid. But he sounded the same, sort of soft but firm, and his eyes looked the same, very brown like a hazel swirl of milk chocolate. Only for a moment.

Booker started to move a little closer, a disbelief of a breath sifting off his tongue about to form more words when Tom nervously jumped out his way and laughed, "I should get you a towel." then he disappeared into another part of the apartment, leaving Dennis alone with his thoughts.

 _That was weird_ , he thought. Tom looked smaller than usual, his taunt muscles faded and were replaced with lanky limps. His flesh was pale.. like he was in the middle of a bad cold, Booker wondered if that's why his eyes stood out so much more now.

When Tom first spoke, Dennis thought Penhall exaggerated and even managed to make Booker through it out of proportion. He seemed fine, a little sick but still well. Still _good_. A stirring in Booker's groin caused him to stifle a moan and keep himself professional. He just looked so much like Tommy for a second. 

But when Tom did return, his smile looked tightened and as he tossed a towel to Booker -- his sweatshirt sleeves slipped down just enough for Dennis to see them.

"Thanks... um.. Tom?" he said drying his upper body and neck, Hanson was walking away from and towards the kitchen, "Why are you all.. bruised up?" he asked. Tom instantly hardened under Booker's observation in the hallway of the kitchen. 

"What's it to you, Booker?" Hanson said between his teeth. He reached angrily into the sink and pulled out a knife. Dennis would've been nervous but Tom soon pulled up a soapy sponge and began vigorously washing.

Dennis watched on speaking quietly, "I'm just asking..." He didn't like the sour edge his last name held when Hanson spoke it. Tom didn't look up or show any indication that he heard him. Booker stood awkwardly at Tom's side, and dried his hair as much as he could. Hanson's uncaring response infuriated the newly even-tempered officer and Booker slapped the damp cloth on the counter and turned squarely to the younger man, "Doug told me."

Hanson looked up immediately with surprise in his eyes and tone, "What?" he completely forgot the blade in his hand, and didn't even noticed when he clenched on to it so tightly that his blood was now swimming down the drain.

Booker, however, did.

 _"Oh! FUCK! TOM!"_  Dennis cried, grasping Hanson's hand and delicately removed the knife that Tom still hadn't noticed. What he _did_  notice was the strange hand that was suddenly touching him and gripping at his skin, "Let me go, let me go! Let go of me! Stop it, stop it!" Tom screamed hysterically.

He tried yanking his wrist back with his other hand but Booker wasn't letting up, "No, Tom." he said with a calm discipline, "Goddamn it." Booker muttered, inspecting the wound after prying Tom's fingers apart, "You fucking split your hand open." he sighed disappointingly. 

 _"I don't care!"_  Tom screamed in his Dennis' face, he decided to change positions and acted aggressively. He used his free hand to ball a fist and wail at Booker's ribs. Dennis flinched and dodged him as much as possible as he tried to wash warn water over Hanson's fresh cut, "Just let me go, you big stupid fucker!" He yelled again.

When he thought it was well enough, Booker finally heard what Tom was saying and felt upset. He hated Hanson barking in his ear and screaming, like a child, in his face when all he was trying to do was help Tom after he fucking injured himself. The whole outburst made Booker jump, Tom's voice was piercing and his limps flew everywhere. It was like he was being consciously electrocuted.  

He cocked his head to face the smaller man, seeing the anger and will to protect in his eyes, and though he knew he was still madly in love with the fighter -- he was spitting in Dennis' face.

So Booker released him and Tom stumbled back and fell the floor and bottom cabinets. The squeaky clean floors that smelled like lemon, were now stained with splattered blood. Tom slumped lower as he sank, an anguish cry breaking from his body that covered itself uneasily. As if to brace for further contact and pain.

Booker stood over him and felt increasingly villainous at what he just done, he crouched down and placed an apologetic hand on Tom's bent knee, "I'm sorry, Tommy.." he whispered. 

Hanson roughly shoved his hand away and scrambled to his feet. His voice small and sharp, "Why don't you just leave?" He said over his shoulder, "Like you always do." He retreated to his own bathroom and Booker sighed, getting back on his own and following Tom. He lingered in the doorway, glancing all around the clean lavatory and at Hanson, who successfully bandaged his hand. 

"What did you mean by that?" Booker asked softly. He had lost his temper once already and he didn't plan on losing it again.

"You know exactly what I meant." Tom said quietly. Booker instinctively took a step forward, _"Don't!"_  Hanson said quick with a full turn of his body. Booker stayed where he was, his hands up in defense.

He spoke softly, "I'm sorry I grabbed you like that.. and dropped you.. and kind of made you cut your hand.. I lost my temper and I'll try not to again." He said gravely, "And I won't touch you. Okay? I promise. No contact." He added quickly. 

Booker's new stance made him see that he needed to be more black and white about things. He wanted to make love to Tom again, feel the trembling body under him that quivered for Booker's touch. He wanted to bring Tom to orgasm, express the devotion he held for the younger man and maybe in the process, make Tom feel the same too.

But Hanson was going through a rough time and he needed someone, a friend. Doug was his best friend but after seeing the fear and unsure look on his face, Booker wasn't so positive on it. As he saw it, Tom only had Dennis. And Dennis wasn't going to walk away from him. 

Tom was somber at the speech, and a part of him cringed at the tender tone. A warm blood feeling traveled through his entire body and he got a shiver down his spine. Booker gave him a strange feeling and Tom sighed. Dennis still had a hold on him, still had little Tommy Hanson tripping over his feet for him. But he wasn't perfect Tommy Hanson, he was another filthy whore that got excited from men he couldn't have and wouldn't want him. He was a whore inside and ugly on the out. And Dennis would never want him again.

He slowly pulled his sweatshirt over his head and exposed his bare flesh. Dennis swallowed a gasp, "I'm going to take a shower." Hanson tested. Booker's eyes flew back up to Tom's, "Okay." he said indifferently. Hanson stared continually at him and Dennis knew what he was waiting for. Booker was a trained cop, and the purple and blue blotches looked self-inflicted.

"Why?" It broke Booker a bit to imagine the beautiful man he loved, hurling his knuckles at himself.

"It's the only way I can keep him away." Hanson's bowed in shame, giving Dennis a clear view of the little patches on Tom's scalp, "It's the only way." he repeated.

Booker had to fight himself from gathering the young man into his arms and kiss the pain away. But Tom could be very well out of love with Dennis, if he was ever in love to begin with. Dennis had to keep his romantic needs, wants, and desires contained and to himself. Another fight in him wanted to know what sick human would harm someone like Tommy so much, that the only way Tom thought he could cope was by hurting himself. 

That's when Booker realized the dark circles under Hanson's eyes, the man hadn't been sleeping. He cleared his throat and walked out the room, turning his head to see Tom out of the corner of his eye he said, "Shower. I'll see you after." then turned his whole face to give the relieved man a cheeky smile, "By the way, I'm sleeping over." he said, adoring the words and face that was matching his toned enthusiasm.

Tom looked up hopefully and smiled small, a genuine smile. He didn't know why he smiled, why the anger washed in and out of him like an indestructible tide but knowing that Dennis was right outside waiting for him just made him feel a little warm in the empty shed he now had inside him. But that wouldn't last, it couldn't.

They were just stuck in a moment.


	19. Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This sucks.  
> My apologies.

Booker sighed when he got back into the living room and clapped his hands together in comfort.

"Okay. Step one, get in the house. Check." he said to himself with a grin. He walked around the tidy palace and stumbled on the kitchen. Dennis scolded himself as he thought how quickly and harshly he threw himself into a fight with Tom. He knew he didn't technically hit Hanson, but he was the cause and that was enough for Booker to want to be on his absolute best behavior. So he dropped to his knees and looked on at the small spots of dried blood. He reached up and grabbed a table cloth and licked the edge before scrubbing the kitchen new. He smiled to himself and got back to his feet. Next, Booker cleaned all around the sink until it shined. He found a neatly stacked file of takeout menus and took the problem into hand, ordering a large pepperoni. He went into Tom's fridge but only found leftovers and figured the younger man must've been drinking water day in and day out. 

Booker walked over to the bathroom and the shower was still very much on, he thought if he was quick -- he could duck out and grab a six pack before Tom was finished.

But when he did get back, the pizza hadn't arrived but a new wave of anger out of Hanson did.

"Where the fuck were you?" he demanded from the couch, his head rose from the impatient hands that held it firm. His hair was slicked back, still damp, and he was wearing a white long sleeve and fitting sweatpants. 

Booker had to swallow a bit at the sight, Tom was always really something to look at, " Relax, Hanson. Why do you even have the door unlocked? I always lock the door." Dennis asked, walking over to kitchen counter and placing the pack down.

Hanson rose to his feet, "Just leave a note or something." he mumbled moody. But Booker knew Tom had avoided the question. 

"Do you always leave the door unlocked?"

Tom didn't look up, taking single beers out and titling them ever so slightly to line up against their brothers, "Only when I know someone's coming." he mumbled. Dennis was about to go forward with his questions, the doorbell rang and Tom took four beers and promptly left like a man with a secret. 

Booker payed the delivery boy and brought it back to the coffee table where Tom sat on the floor across from. Dennis took the couch and sat down, watching intently as Tom took two slices and devoured the first in mere seconds with two slurps of his beer. 

"You're staring at me." Tom said through cheesy bites.

Dennis gave a guilty smile and shrugged, taking a sip of his beer, "Old habit." he mumbled under his breath, "Well this is my first time seein' you.."

Tom stopped eating, remembering the accident, "I'm sorry." he said to Booker's dismissal, "How are you?" he asked after taking a swing of his drink, "Doug said physical therapy was...rough. You didn't want to see anyone?" 

Dennis flinched at the memory. Penhall had been very kind to the dark-haired man, more than he deserved. 

"It was difficult. But I landed on my feet." Booker said plainly, finally grabbing a slice that he barely touched. But Tom continued, "I was at your bedside.. I wish I never left."

Without thinking Booker asked, "Why?"

Hanson darted his eyes away and laughed nervously, "Missed opportunity to berate you about that stupid bike." he threw over his shoulder. Dennis followed him and soon found them mutually in the rhythm of the past.

"You _love_  my bike, Tommy." he said as he leaned against the counter, watching Tom organize the leftover beers into the fridge. 

Hanson straightened, closing the refrigerator door and walking over to stand in front of Dennis. A familiar teasing smile on his face, "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dennis." He whispered close to Booker. The men were nose to nose.

Dennis knew exactly what helped him sleep at night and without a second of hesitation, he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on Tom. It was small and pleasant, warm and so goddamn familiar. Dennis started to weave Hanson's mouth open and captured him in a heated kiss. Tom kissed back at the alluring mouth until realizing what was happening and quickly pulling back.

"Fuck. I'm sorry, Tommy, that was -- I," Dennis said rapidly, with am excuse in hand that he felt was the worst possible thing to say. He wanted to say "I couldn't help it" but that wasn't true. He didn't have to go that far and he didn't have to kiss Tommy at all, "I should go." He said against the younger man's forward but two firm hands on his hips kept him in place.

"You said you'd sleepover." 

"I don't know if that's a good idea anymore." Dennis said, blowing little strands of hair from Tom's eyes with his breath. The idea of sleeping anywhere near Hanson had his cock coming alive, and having to restrain it had him being completely _unprofessional_  and open to the infection of falling in love with Tom Hanson all over again. Painfully so, as Tom wasn't the man he used to know. A man who may never return the love properly. 

"I'll tell you what happened when I stopped visiting you." Hanson said walking away from Dennis, saying sadly to himself, "You won't feel tempted or guilty next time."

When they got back to the living room, Hanson sat Indian style on the far end of the couch and patted a seat close to him for Dennis.

"First of -- I don't mind that." he gestured a finger to his lips, "We were together once. And if you're worried about stepping over that line again, don't be. After I tell you, you won't even want to hug --" Booker stopped him and dropped a warm hand on his knee.

"Don't say that Tommy, I'll always love you. No matter what." He said promising. The younger man twitched into a small smile and begged the question, "Still?"

Dennis chuckled, "Of course." His eyes twinkling, "We're still friends." he said. Hanson looked down soon Booker wouldn't see his smile waver and falter. Dennis knee exactly what he said, he had to keep his bearings. The best way was to remember that he and Tom were friends. They had to be _just_  friends. Lovers again? It seemed so far out and unlikely. Dennis admitted to himself that he wasn't sure Tom could love like he used to, he just seemed to distant from the old Hanson.

Tom looked up with a forced grin, "Thanks." he cleared his throat and began his tale, "Well um.. guess I'll start.. everyone was saying I had to get out more, move on." he said in a detached voice. Like he was reading off someone else's statement, "Because your condition was 50/50 and yeah so.. I did that. We went out for a beer. I was.. drunk.. I saw some guy at the bar, took him home and.. things got a little.. rough.." he said through a thick throat. Dennis was trying very hard to keep a straight face because Tom sounded like he was.. blaming himself. He kept saying  _I,_ where other  _people_ always said  _"he did this.." and "he did that.."_

"Anyway um.. we did it and it was really.. hardcore and I just was caught off guard. But I wanted it and I got it so its not as serious as Doug thinks it is. It happened then he left and that's it."  he said before grabbing a random beer on the table and taking a much needed drink. 

"Tom.. is that all that happened?" Booker asked gently, "you're not keeping anything back, right?" Tom quickly shook his head and Dennis sighed. That was all he would be able to get out of Tom for now. He wanted to pry his defense down and ask him, also, why he quit the force and the change in characteristics but it seemed for another night.

"Okay." Dennis took a deep breath and stood tall, "Come on. Time for you to go to bed." he said. Hanson obliged and followed him into the bedroom where Booker waited for Tom to get into bed, "I'll sleep outside." he said with his arms crossed and eyes soft, "I know you don't sleep much," Dennis spoke, leaning down to Tom's beautiful face, "But don't be afraid. I'll be right outside, just sleep." he said with a grin. He headed out and got a hand on the doorknob ready to be home free with his thoughts when Tom spoke.

"Um.. Dennis? Can't you stay?" Hanson asked anxiously, "It's just I'd feel better.. and its not like we never shared a bed.." The memory caused both Dennis and Tom to cringe. The elephant in the room was in every innuendo underlying but they pretended it wasn't, otherwise their whole system would fall apart. Dennis nodded casually and went over to the other side of the bed. He slowly took off his things until he was in his boxers, trying desperately to understand the situation he put himself in.

He spoke to Tom but the words had no meaning or a much deeper one than intended, he didn't understand why he was acting in such a way. Then he remembered what the Hanson in his comatose dream told him. He nodded determined to keep his head, heart and cock in all the right places. He turned over to get inside the bed, noticing Tom had stripped down too and saw the scars on his back. He took a sharp breath involuntarily. 

Hanson sighed softly, "I'm sorry." was all he said. Dennis so tearfully wanted to stroke Tom's harmed back and make him confess everything so Booker could rip the man who hurt, the fucking love of his life, so much. But he didn't feel it was right yet. Tom was way on the other side bed and Dennis at the other end. There was a huge gap of distance between them and before Booker fell into an uneasy sleep, he thought about how much in love with Tommy he was. But he felt it was all wrong and guilt brought tears to his lonesome eyes. 


	20. Erotic City

Throughout the night, Dennis stayed awake at Tom's tossing and turning. He mumbled incoherent pleas and whimpered helplessly. But Booker knew better than to just shake Tommy out of a nightmare and risk a physical attack. The best way for Tom to overcome it was to allow him to sweat it out. But with every sweaty limb thrown at him and pained expression on the beautiful young man's face had Dennis going against his better judgment. 

Booker gently shook a sweaty shoulder that was clinging so desperately onto the older man's large right arm, "Tommy. Wake up, it's okay." he whispered, "Its okay baby, it's me. You're safe." Hanson's eyes flew open, panicked and alert, he whimpered again and buried his face and body into Booker's side, "He's everywhere. He's everywhere.." he repeated fearfully.

Dennis wrapped protective arms around the slender waist that clung to him, "No, he's not. He's not here, I'm here. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you. Look at me," he said forcing Tom's teary eyes to look at him, "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." he spoke solemnly.

The devotion that poured from dark eyes sent an electric charge through Tom, reaching up he crushed grateful lips to Dennis. The older man kissed back softly mumbling quietly against Tom's pout, "C'mon Tommy, take a shower and calm down. It's okay."

Hanson whispered back, "Only if you shower with me." he responded hopefully. Dennis grinned, "We're stepping over the line again." The young man smiled the familiar Tommy Hanson smile, "When have we ever stayed on our sides?" he asked rhetorically. Booker laughed wholeheartedly at the truth and smirked his playful grin before swooping under Tom and throwing the giggling young man over his shoulder and into the bathroom. 

"Just like old times." Tom beamed as he was put carefully back on his feet. Booker was working on the shower water but his smile was obvious, "Yeah, like old times." he said when he turned back to pull Tom in. 

The two fell into each other's embraces under the warm spring, for a while they just held each other. Booker put his chin on Tom's damp hair and subconsciously stroked the younger man's back with his fingertips. Hanson had his arms wrapped firmly around the older man's strong waist and answered the unspoken question, "He liked to hit me." 

Booker pulled back to look down into his eyes, "...Why? With what?" he gravely wanted to understand why the man would do so much pain to Tom. It just didn't make sense why a person would want to do so much damage to another person. A beautiful, perfect, caring, gentle, _noble_  person. 

"A belt, I think." Tom replied, his gaze falling, "I dunno why he did, you know, any of this. But he knew us." Tom said before moving away from Booker to retrieve the soap. Dennis took it from his hands and lathered his palms up enough to wash Tom's chest with it's absence, "He knew us? Knew us how? Like, from a case or something?" 

Hanson allowed the large hands to caress his skin clean, relishing in the simple moment, "Says so like he did. He knew about _us_ too I think, he knew when you left." he answered dreamlike. Booker sighed and tried to let the cop side of him go, as he watched Tom rinse off his soapy upper body. He loved the man in front of him, loved him so much he couldn't _just let it go._  

"Did he say anything else?" he pushed a bit further. Tom was enjoying the warm water too much to be bothered by the interrogation, "He called me _pretty_  and a whore, also said he'd see me again soon." Hanson confessed. Before he could grasp what he was saying, Booker locked up his newly found - and somewhat useless - information and stepped forward to meet Tom under the heavy spring. 

He drew a hand up and let a finger linger and trace the outline of Tom's lips, the water dropping fiercely on their eyes but they willed on to keep their pupils locked on one another. Dennis licked his lips and chuckled at the young officers twinkling expression, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Tom's inviting mouth. The rise in pressure escalated and the steam of the room grew more and more intense as each man's arousal became more evident. 

"I missed you so much, Tommy, fuck." Dennis groaned in a sentimental mumble into Tom's neck because the younger man was currently teasing the life out of the taller man's manhood -- and doing so with great slowness and precision. Hanson moaned at the voice and worked his hand harder. 

"I can make you feel so good, Dennis." Suddenly Prince lyrics came to mind and seemed all too fitting, "Fuck's so pretty, you and me.." He said breathlessly, "Would you like that?" he moaned as Booker found his mouth and threw himself into a heated passionate kiss, devouring Tom's tongue and lips with a raw desire.

Hanson moved his hand higher and down, taking painfully long strokes and making Dennis quiver in helplessness, "Fuck Tom.. feels so good.." Booker moaned louder, pulling the young man closer and kissing him deeper and deeper until Hanson's head began to swim and he started to lose control. 

But when Dennis whimpered, Tom remembered his place and moved away from the attacking lips that now latched onto his throat, "Do you want to come?" His voice was raspy and slick, Booker shook under it and nodded impatiently, Hanson worked his fist feverently, "Come for me, Dennis." Tom whispered tauntingly. 

Hanson's voice in his ear, Hanson's hand wrapped roughly around his cock, Hanson's body so close to his was enough for Dennis to come with a scream of Tommy's name. The erotic sight of Dennis with his head thrown back in unbashed ecstasy grow Tom to his own orgasm and with one stroke, he came too. They both shot forth within seconds of each other and watched as their juices dripped away and down the drain. 

Smiling contently at each other, Dennis pushed his forehead against Tom and wrapped him in a warm hug, kissing the young man from his shoulder to the edge of his jawline. 

"Paying back debts can be fun, huh?" Tom said suddenly with a laugh. Booker stopped kissing him and searched confusingly into his eyes, "Debt?"

Hanson looked back baffled, "Ye-- Yeah.." he sputtered out, "You were really good to me tonight, really nice and I owed you --" Booker jumped away at once and scoffed dumbfounded. He gave one look to Tom, who didn't seem to understand what he was saying, and got out of the shower as quickly as he could. He dried himself swiftly and struggled to get his clothes on, then Tom came out wrapped in a towel and carrying a hurt expression. 

"Where are you going?" He asked pointlessly. Dennis stood right up and went into the living room, looking up and down for his jacket, "Its on the arm rest." Tom pointed out helpfully, "Why are you leaving?" he asked again. Booker still hadn't said anything, the pain crippling his heart too much to speak. But Hanson wouldn't give up.

Dennis made it to the door after he grabbed his keys off the counter and tried to open the door but Tom was already at his side and slammed the door shut again, "Dennis!" he shouted. Booker spun his head to face Tom, "What, Hanson?"

Tom slowly took a few steps back wounded, "Now I'm _Hanson_? Jesus _fucking_  Christ. Give a guy a hand job and you're nothing more than a co-worker."

"You're not a cop anymore." Dennis retorted. 

"Is that what's changed?" Tom struck back, "'Cause I don't carry a badge, you're walking out on me again?" he demanded.

"I didn't walk out on you, Tom!" Booker yelled, "I got in a fucking accident and you, you --" His eyes averted and Tom caught it.

"I, what?" He urged on, "Say it, _Booker!_  Say it for fuck sakes. I got raped! I got raped and you weren't there to fucking save me. Now I'm not your perfect little _cop_  Tommy Hanson, now I'm a fucking whore. Isn't that right, Dennis?" He screamed louder and louder. 

Dennis' jaw clenched and he opened the door again, he gave Tom one last look, "Why are you doing this?" he asked in anguish. But the younger man didn't answer and Booker had to get out. It all got too real and once again, he went against his better judgment and the consequences were epic.

Tom was unstable, and Dennis had to keep himself together otherwise he'd do something he'd really regret. He jumped in his car and found a local bar, he went inside and hoped to relieve the tension and pain before going back and facing the man who had him falling into a deep and destructive love.

Hanson watched the door shut and felt a huge wave of rage, he screamed at his highest volume and punched himself savagely until a soft tusking echoed across from him.

"Pretty, Pretty, Pretty.. Why do you want to hurt yourself? Come on. You're better than that." the benevolent voice said, "What's wrong, Pretty? Did someone hurt your feelings?"

Tom nodded choking up at the voice that squated to his eye level, "Aww, tell me what happened, Pretty." the voice pushed tenderly. Tom welcomed in thankfully. 

"He, he.." he wailed softly, "He didn't want me." The voice tusked again and pulled Tom to his feet. Hanson broke into the warm embrace, crying outright. The man stroked Tom's injured back, "What a mistake he made." He said pulling Tom's face to his, "I'm sorry I hurt you, Pretty. If I promise to never ever do it again when you behave, will you accept it?" he said in a childlike voice, Tom nodded surely. 

"I know somewhere, everyone will want you. They'll never get enough of you. And _that_  bad man will regret leaving you -- would you like that?" He asked kindly. Tom nodded with a wide cheeky smile and the man returned a genuine grin and ruffled Tom's hair.

"Come on then Pretty, I'll take you home." He said soothingly and pulled Tom under his arm and out of the apartment.


	21. Runaway

Booker couldn't get down another drink after the first burned the surroundings of his throat.

 _Fucking mother -- fuck, fuck, fuck!_  he berated himself viciously. He kept trying and trying to get his head on straight and his emotions in check but Tom was seducing and Dennis was weak. He put his head down in shame, he couldn't believe what he did and what he was doing. He left Hanson back there to get his thoughts in order but what thoughts did he even have? Now that he was out of the situation, the guilt and anger and self-loathing took him over. 

Hanson had been raped and thought the only think Dennis wanted him for was pleasure, and Booker didn't even have the good sense to change this thought. Tom must think it's true and he's all alone, he's prone to hurting himself and he was very upset and..

Dennis went on and on, imagining all the ways his screw up would lead to an already damaged Hanson. His thoughts came to a halt when he remembered he promised he wouldn't leave the younger man, and that he'd always love him. But the fight had surprised him and frightened him to be honest.

He couldn't keep this calm demeanor, it wasn't him and all these feelings were begging to crawl out. He stood up and payed the tab, a sure look on his face. It was enough of this steady and straight Booker, he was messy and deliberate and spoke his mind. He had to be that Booker. It went against his recent revelation but it could be the only thing to save Tom. 

He stumbled back to the apartment, a slight buzzed, and all he found was an open door and a damp towel on the floor. He called out for Hanson but received no answer, as he searched he spotted a note on the dresser. His heart clenched and angry tears swelled in his eyes, he threw the dresser down violently and stuffed the note in his pocket before running out of the home. The door slammed in his eardrums but it still couldn't mask silence Tom left him in.

XX

Hanson's face had hardened when the tears subsided. The man lovingly took away Tom's towel and politely asked the young man to get dressed. The former officer obliged and retreated to his room to quickly put on boxer shorts and plain T-shirt. While he was there, he decided to do something Booker hadn't. He wrote a note.

_Don't try to save me Booker,_

He wrote certainly, he took a look at the man who had his back turned to the bedroom and smiled. That man wasn't so bad, after all. Hanson was glad he hadn't told Dennis why he sometimes, occasionally leaves the door unlocked. 

A few nights after the first rape, Tom had been unable to sleep and get a nice good old fashioned hard on. He cried a great deal, feeling unfulfilled and worthless as a man. But one night, he heard a soft knocking at the door. He was so blinded by his sobs that he let the sweet talking man in and they engaged in a dysfunctional love affair. As long as Tom obeyed the few rules, such as being called _Pretty_  and _Tommy_ , he would be given his release and the old man would leave him be.

Desperate and aching for orgasm, Hanson had allowed him a few times and the results were outstanding. He didn't even remember the next morning to feel guilty or ashamed because the man always left him two little blue pills on his nightstand. The pills made him feel normal and stable, and if he wasn't agitated too much -- all was well. 

_I'm rescued._

He finished with a grin. He returned to the man, who never gave him a name, and beamed in submission. The man stretched his neck tall and arched an eyebrow, he grabbed Tom's hand and steered him out and into his ebony car. They drove around for awhile and the man spoke quietly and with severe authority. 

"Well Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.." he said, keeping his eye on the road and moving his hand to rest on Hanson's thigh. The young man looked up in concentration and the man continued, "You're my boy now, and I'm.. your man. Do you understand?"

Tom nodded, "That means that even though there will be a lot of other men playing with you, you're still mine." Tom nodded, adoring at his new lover, "There will be new changes and you'll have to learn along the way," the man turned his head and gave a fond look to the beautiful boy in front of him and gave his thigh a squeeze, "But I don't have the slightest doubt that you'll adapt soon enough, Pretty."

They soon found themselves in front of a seedy looking apartment building that appeared abandoned until they went inside. The man grabbed hold of Tom and brought him to walk a few steps behind him, "Now Pretty, you need to always do what you're told. Alright?" Tom nodded in obedience and as they walked in, Hanson felt the eyes of different men that littered in the large loft. They sat in chairs, around tables, with money and dope around them. 

One whistled and leered at Hanson, the man stepped protectively in front of the young man. 

"This is Tommy. If you want a piece of mine, you better ask first." he said sternly. The room stiffened until they all muttered in agreement. Hanson knew the faces were familiar but he was too strangely happy of his new home to care. The man whispered something in his ear and gestured to a room down the further end of the hall.

Tom stumbled towards it until he was roughly shoved through by the man who closed the door with a click of the lock. Hanson thought maybe he should feel endangered but the man was stroking him playfully through his thin shorts. 

"Think we should have a little house warming party, don't you think Pretty?" He asked as he hastily dropped the boxers to the floor. Hanson nodded, whimpering for the teasing to go on. The man gave Tom a sloppy kiss and as much as the young man wanted to latch on, the man pulled away and faintly pushed Tommy onto a worn out mattress, "You have to welcome the others too, don't forget. But I go first, Pretty. I'm always first."

The man pounced on Hanson and began working his cock until it was giving him a full salute. The man quickly started to shed his belt and pants, stopping shortly to linger over Tom's face. 

"What's your line, Pretty?"

Tom looked dreary into the man's eyes, devotion erupting for the man above him who was just seconds from entering him, "I want to you to fuck me long and hard." he said mechanically. Then the beautiful, powerful adventure began and Tom felt rightly stimulated. 

Maybe it was the blue pills he took at his past home. 

Other men came in and took Tom's masters place but the young man was too up and drowsy to notice who came and went. But when it was all finished and he was left alone, unharmed and loved up, he took in his new home. 

A stingy smell, loud music he didn't recognize, a dirty mattress, dim lighting and paint crumbling walls.

The perfect place for  _Pretty,_ the whore.


	22. Because The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love Patti Smith, listening to the song (Because the Night) will help with this chapter, I feel.  
> Also "Up high in the cotton candy skies"? - my lyrics!  
> Are you guys enjoying this story, by the way? I'd love feedback! Also, I try to post everyday so don't be too upset if I take too long typing and editing!

Booker went to the chapel the next day, exhausted and distressed. He spent the entire night searching for Hanson and yelled out profanity after profanity when the leads turned up empty. He wanted -- _needed_  to tell someone but how and who? How could he explain to someone that the he was painfully in love with a man who was raped while he, Booker, was injured and in a comatose state, and when he returned, alive and well, he had tried to help his lover -- ex? Oh God, it was more dysfunctional than he thought. He tried to help his _person_  but only got into a sexual game with the person that led to a ginormous fight that, suspiciously and promptly, landed the man of his dreams - and fantasy - into some random nut job's hands?! 

How could he possibly explain that to a _sane_  human being? Explain that he believed, a hint of a doubt, that Tom hadn't left unwillingly? Booker wasn't a handwriting expert but Tom's signature style was neat and sure in the note.

The only way he would be able to relieve the boulder on his shoulders was if he told someone, anyone but then he risked spilling Hanson's secret. 

 _"Raped ex-cop willingly kidnapped -- no suspects!"_  onevery newscast and paper?

Tommy would be halfway across Mexico when the story hit. No, telling authorities was not it. There's gotta be something else to do, Dennis thought. As he finally stopped pacing and went inside, he thought maybe, he could possibly tell Doug.

Oh, no, _No_ , he thought instantly. The raven haired officer rammed his fist at the brick wall but stopped a few inches before making contact. Hurting himself would not help anyone and would only make it more difficult to move forward with an injury. His heart wrinkled when he thought back to his reasons and pain for all this. 

Tommy.

Tom thought the only way to cope with everything that's happened _to him_  was to hurt himself. Dennis sighed and let his hand fall to his side. So no, Telling Doug would result in fresh bruises and open cuts. And besides It was _Booker_  who was left with the young, unstable man. It was _Dennis_ who allowed sexual play to go into no man's land. He would only be blamed and rightly so. Still, none of this would help find Tommy. If anything, it would slow the process. Dennis' head slumped as he realized, he was 100% on his own.

Dennis craved a cigarette at that moment but he had thrown out all his cartons. He instead turned the corner and waltz into the church, hoping maybe seeing Penhall cringed with secretive worry would force a change of mind, but he was dead wrong. There the young, energized, up high in the cotton candy skies was Doug Penhall. Laughing joyously with his friends trying, unsuccessfully, to describe a story that pondered his mind. Booker couldn't help the pull at his lips. This was where someone his age should be. Enjoying life, taking the world by storm with an optimistic spirit and lighthearted tongue. But alas, he felt he was having a midlife crisis. His world felt cold and untouched by anything but black and white. He couldn't speak, couldn't enjoy his young reckless existence when all he wanted was to take storm over his head and tear it down.

What made it worse was the sheer jab of Tom's absence. More than anyone, he deserved to be here. Smiling that pure, happy go-lucky smile that swelled Dennis' heart since the day they met. Tommy deserved to be here, unharmed and unconflicted, and that was now Booker's mission.

Screw this hippie, calm Dennis. That Dennis would never find the young man. But the _motorcycle riding, hell raising_  Dennis Booker could. He would go and save Hanson before it was too late. Tommy may think he's _rescued_  but he did sign up to be in this, relationship with the older man. And Dennis took his paperwork very seriously. 

Booker stormed into the Captain's office and demanded two weeks off for personal reasons. Fuller obliged with a sideways look but granted his young officer's wish. 

Two weeks. Two weeks, on his own, he had given himself. If he didn't find any leads or Tom in that time, he'd tell Doug and let the consequences be. But he still had to vaguely wander Penhall off the trail.

"Woah, woah, Book slow down," Doug called out, grabbing a hold on the rushing officer's forearm, "Not now, Penhall." Booker said in dismissal. He tried to break from the, slightly, taller man's grip but Doug had other thoughts in mind, "What's going on?" he demanded through smiling clenched teeth, "My car broke down." Booker answered with a strange face before ripping his flesh from Doug's fingertips. He hurried out and tried to speed off on his bike but Penhall was a lot quicker than Dennis thought. He was standing over him with worry clouded eyes. 

"I'm trying to help Tom -- If I need.." Booker started, wishing his eyes awkwardly between Doug's, "I know where you are." Penhall seemed to think that was enough or maybe he just trusted the other man. Either way he took a step back, giving the silent send off, "Save him, okay? He says he's fine but I think he's just hanging on the railings." 

"I'll do my best Doug," Dennis promised, pulling his riding helmet over to crush his coal colored hair. He lifted the small window that exposed his face and gave one last word to the man who had welcomed him, unexpectedly, with open arms, "Thanks for not badmouthing me.  I would've deserved it if you had, I was out of line at the hospital --" Doug gave a small laugh and slapped him warmly on the shoulder, "No one deserves that, Book." he said semi-seriously. He gave Booker a sure smile and that was exactly the nudge Dennis needed to go.

As Booker rode aimlessly in the direction of Hanson's vacant apartment, his memory pulled at any clues Tom might've given him. 

The man who raped Tom called him _Pretty_ , liked to hit, knew them from a case and as lovers. The roar of the engine screamed like the instant knowing feeling in Booker's gut. He knew exactly who was involved in Tommy's disappearance. As he steered with a strong sense of purpose, he swore that if his instincts proved true -- he would finally get his hands on the fucking animals who gave his Tommy the look that made Dennis' skin crawl. 

And Dennis Booker would throw down hell to bring Tom Hanson back.

Hanson:

He wasn't allowed to leave his room without permission. The small, dirty palace called home could only be locked from the outside and held no windows or closets, vents or anything. It consisted of a mattress, a small mirror above a sink beside a toilet and next to the door was a chain that turned on and off the lights. Even if he wanted to leave, he couldn't. 

But Tom really couldn't say he wanted to leave. 

He had it good here, he was free and loved here. They gave him food, drinking water, a bed, heat that traveled to his room, running water. He payed no bills, had no real job, and no real responsibilities. All he had to do was stay clean, pretty, and hard. They got him whenever they wanted to, washed him and shaved him themselves then put him back in his room. It wasn't an awful set up, considering he sometimes didn't remember what he was had done with the strange men. The pills he was frequently given however, were causing problems.

They soothed him to the point of a limp Rodney.

His John's, or nameless men, really didn't like that but before -- or after -- they struck him, Tom would promise rapidly and repeatedly that he _was_  turned on, and just needed a second.

Sometimes they would lend him the moment to jerk off, but most times they wailed on him for being a "Limp Dick Whore." It didn't stop them from crawling all over him though, Tom just had to make up for the lack of hardness with blow jobs and tricks. Hanson was too desperate for the affection to care, sometimes the pain even caused him to be stimulated. The humiliation and attention having a strange effect on him. 

But it was the nights he was left alone that bothered him, it was the absence of closeness and warmth. His master, a name that man proudly adopted, was not his lover. He came, fucked Tom three ways to Sunday, gave him the schedule of the day, and left. He never stayed unless it was necessary or returned later in the night to gather the young, abused man in his protective arms. He didn't even touch Tom affectionately, when he was finished he sat up and gave Hanson the rundown. Occasionally he'd allow Tom to wrap his arms around him, but he mostly moved away when the younger man tried to make contact. 

Tom wondered _why_  often, but he already knew the answer. It was a business deal, Tom was something to get the men's minds off of work -- narcotics of some kind that Hanson wasn't allowed to know. But it couldn't stop the feeling that the reason that no one was there for him was because they simply didn't care, they didn't want Tom beyond sex. These thoughts put the young man into sobbing fits of sorrow and self-hatred. When he slept -- if only for a short time, pills given from 1 to 3 depending on a late night buy that usually made the men anxious -- he dreamed of someone who would love him. Really love him, for more than his cock or ass or face. Someone strong, loving, and true. As much as Tom tried to throw the image away after the older officer rejected him, his ideal lover always had Booker's face.

But Dennis walked out and Tom couldn't leave, he didn't want to leave.  Booker didn't want him and Hanson was _just fine_ with that. He could hash it out on his own, he wasn't weak. He was rescued. And loved. The men desired him, lusted after him, swelled _for him_. Tom thought, he didn't need anyone who didn't need him. 

When Bruise entered, leather bounds in hands and a wicked grin in place, Tom smiled seductively from where he sat, criss-crossed on the bed. This is where he was most enjoyed.

He turned his voice to silk, "We're gonna have fun tonight, huh, Bruisey?" The man's name, like the other three including Master, were never given. The one in front of Tom must've been named Bruce or something, Hanson thinks he heard it when the man and Master were talking outside one night. But Tom called him Bruise for the reverse masochistic fuck making the man pleasured. The young man let it slip once and the man did not object, "Very good, Tommy."

The man sauntered over to Tom in the rhythm of the song that suddenly played at full volume. Hanson recognized the song deep in his memory and welcomed the pounding sound and beautiful lyrics to his ears. What happened next came in flickers and flashes and touches. 

_Take me now baby here as I am_

_Pull me close, try and understand_ _  
_

_Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe_

_Love is a banquet on which we feed_

_Come on now try and understand_

_The way I feel when I'm in your hands_

_Take my hand come undercover_

_They can't hurt you now_

_Can't hurt you now, can't hurt you now_

The drums thrashed like a Native American ceremony. Patti Smith's voice was like the wind, strong and forceful. The words, wisdom at full max. All on display, in front of Tom's hazy eyes that wandered.

Being tied by wrists, Tom was incapable of anything but feeling. Feeling every pounce the drums took like a puma leaping from its seat, perfectly mirroring the power and precision of Bruise' wind-like cock.

_Love is a angel disguised as lust_

_Here in our bed until the morning comes_

_Come on try and understand_

_The way I feel under your command_

_Take my hand as the sun descends_

_They can't touch you now_

_Can't touch you now, can't touch you now_

When suddenly an explosion, an eruption, an erotic impulsiveness danced off Tom's tongue like a vibrant ballerina. The music playing, matching the beat of his racing heart. His heart that paced like a marathon runner when Bruise vigorously pulled at Tom's swollen cock.

Pushing and pulling him closer and closer, while simultaneously having Bruises' cock beating into him like a wave of oceans crashing over rock and stone. 

The dazed feeling, like he was on a high ride, causing him to squirm under Bruise uncontrollably, the leather binding and biting at sweaty flesh. His insides becoming crushed by his outer, that pulled tighter and tighter.

His throat dry, closing, choking, and catching on liquid air. His eyelids spread wide, pupils huge and dilated, pleasure tears pulling at the corners. His mouth twisted in a tortured gap, his moans coming out strained and unable to contain. He must be loud, louder than the music if possible but Tom didn't care.

Finally, frightfully, _"Dennis!"_  he yelled out as his orgasm hit hard and he came into the surprised man's hands but before Bruise could stop and question, he came into Tom -- quickly filling Hanson with his hot semen. Tommy sighed when his climax dwindled, a content smile on his pretty face.

_"Who the fuck is Dennis?"_

The song faded out and so did Tom when Bruise hammered and pummeled him into another realm. Where birds were gold, where Tom was clean, and Dennis was God.


	23. Pretty no more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was only able to write and type Tom's entry so please comment! I really like how this came out, i think..

Tom could feel everything.

Every blow to his side, every punch to his legs, every slap to his weaken arms. He was thrown off the bed and tossed to the cold, hard wood floor. Bruise yelled demeaning names at him with every kick he launched to Tom's lower stomach, _"You filthy whore. You no good fucking whore."_  Tom whimpered in misery, the counter act resulting in blood trickling from chipped lips. He bawled powerlessly, pleading with the man above him, _"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please stop, stop hurting me!"_ He screamed hysterically. But Bruise didn't cease, How dare this -- waste of life! Scream out another man's name when he was getting the best fucking of his lifetime. He struck Tom harder for discoloring his ego, and the young man already felt swelling.

His breathing came out ragged and frayed, but every unyielding strike of displeasure to his damaged body was followed by tremors and cries of pain. Dangling oxygen in his face just to snatch it back. Bruise forcefully lifted Tom to his unsteady feet, drew his clenched fist back locked and loaded when -- ready to clock the begging, sniveling man back into Dreamland --- they were frozen in place by Master's growl.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He was by Hanson's side in a dash, yanking him by the elbow and pushing him into the open hallway towards safety. Tom stumbled outside, the door slammed in his eardrums. He could hear muffled arguing but decided to move away in fear. He fell into the living room, where the other men were conducting business minus customers. They looked up, cigarettes hanging from lips and beers waiting to be drank, at Tom in surprise.

"Jesus Christ, Tommy -- what happened?" A concerned voice said. It was the one with thick glasses and a constantly wrinkled forehead, the brains of the operation. He earned the name BJ, from Tom. The injured man quivered in agony and with little to know time, dropped on the spot. The others sprung from their feet to gather around the limp and drained lover-boy.

"What the fuck did they do to him?" BJ whispered to one of the dealers, Kink, who replied, "How the fuck should I know? Oh jeez, take a look at him. He's bleeding and shit... do you smell urine --?" They gingerly touched Tom but he remained still, too frightened to move. They sighed in relief when they realized Hanson hadn't peed on himself, it was just the sweat and smell of sex that latched on to his new wounds. They stayed silently around him, hearing the quarrel coming from the bedroom. Growing louder and louder, closer and closer to them. The panic gripped at his heart, speedily Tom stood up even with his distorted vision and hid behind the last of the gang -- a dealer, donned the name Dog.

"Get your motherfucking ass in there!" Master demanded, pushing Bruise ahead of him and colliding him into the other men.

"It's that asshole's fault!" Bruise yelled back, Tom noticed his clenched fists but they didn't move, only swung at his sides. However, they did flinch with every razor sharp edge in Master's voice. Hanson now took in that Master was head in the bedroom -- and in the workplace. And boy, did he know it.

"I don't care if he screamed out the Mayor's fucking name!" he barked back.

The truth made all the men, who were unknowingly protecting Tom, give the young man the once over and move slightly away from him. Not enough to expose him, but the former officer cried a little harder at the embarrassment and shame. Still, he remained relatively silent to best stay hidden, "You don't hit him in the fucking face. I don't care what he does wrong -- keep your fists off his dick and his face." The protective undertone in his voiced moved a longing feeling in Tom's soul. He wandered, hypnotized by the change, past the men to stand near Master.

"You love me." He said in riveted announcement. He may as well been swaying on his heels in a field of wildflowers.

"Sure, Pretty," He said in an insignificant garble, tossing Tom aside to continue chiding Bruise. Bruise who was particularly infuriated by the scolding -- especially in front of the other men, "Now listen -- You're gonna stop this shit. You can do whatever the fuck you want. You want hit on the customer's girlfriend, size up the others during a card game? Go head, I don't give a shit. But you don't hit the boy in the face ---"

Hanson stood behind his Master, beaming proudly, "You really love me." The other men slowly separated themselves from the dazed brown haired man who was not truly seeing the bubbling altercation and talked with a puny desperate voice.

"Okay, Tommy ---" His patience dwindling down to ash.

"Oh," Tom exclaimed, completely forgetting the tension of the room and absorbing the declaration of love he had received, "I'm so ha--" 

"Enough, boy!" Master screeched. His voice coming down like a judge's gavel, "Shut the fuck up." he turned to face Tom with flames in his eyes, "You're like a goddamn puppy dog. A fucking child." He howled at Tom's shocked head.

"What ---" Tommy was thrown off, why did the only man who loved him say such things, his throat thickened, "Why would you say that? I -- no. You love me, you --"

Master pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, frustration wafting out of him, "No, Tommy. I don't. I don't love you." He taunted mercilessly, "You're my pet. A dog. A _bitch_ ," he snapped, "Why would I love _you_?"

"Take it easy Boss --" BJ weakly defended, but he was soon put back in his place by his leader's strict will, "No. He's gotta learn." he claimed, turning back to a shaken shadow of the once pure Tom Hanson, "Why should I love you, Tommy? Gimme one good reason." He said with a teasing, degrading smirk.

Tom's head cringed at the harassment, awkwardly making eye contact with the taller man just to drop his glance in dismay. Never before this moment did Hanson think he may die, the room was spinning and the eyes were watching and he was trembling, "Good... ed..." he mumbled through unsure lips.

"Good _what_?" Master shouted.

"Head!" the young man shrieked, "I, I give good head." the man bitterly guffawed, the  harsh sound whipping at Tom's ears.

"Well, that's for damn certain, Tommy-boy. Yes you do, what else?"

Hanson stuttered for an answer, eyeing his faintly dirty feet. Part of his mind wondered when the last shower he had was -- couldn't be more than four days ago. The men were peaking, selling left and right, coming to Tom more and more for quickies and breaks. The answer uncovered itself, "I'm a good fuck!" Tom yelped.

Master laughed humorously, "Eureka! Well would you look at that boys," he gestured to the men who hadn't uttered a word, "The slut's a genius." He laughed again, pretending to dry invisible tears, "You're right, Tommy. Those _are_  good reasons. I _do_  love you. Hey yeah, you heard me right, men! I love you, Tommy. _I do, I do!_ " he ridiculed with mock cheer.   

Something pulled at Hanson, then. That stupid jibing, sneering voice swelled him with an unquenchable rage. He hated being insulted, he hated being thought of as fragile and frail, he hated being thought of as nothing more than a piece of ass. Yes he was small, but he was scrappy. Tom Hanson was a fighter, the dirty wild fighter that would fight anyone twice his size or shape. Tom Hanson exploded, "Fuck you!" He screamed at the man who had turned away from him to laugh at his expense, "I hate you, you cheese dick bastard!" slander from his youth resurfacing like magical ammunition. All the self-hatred and loathing turning into bold, raw fight.

The hush silence that once was, was now a surge -- an outburst of howls and cackling. The men gasped and faltered into snorts, screaming for air as they laughed on at the brave balls of this young, pretty man. They chortled for as long as forever it seemed, Tom stood with a hard stare at the only man who didn't snicker. When the laughter subsided and much of the anger -- but not determination -- left Tom, Master strolled menacingly towards him.

"Now, I'm glad you said that, Tommy." He breathed on Hanson's cheek, "'Cause it's about time I stop calling you Pretty."

Tom formed on the floor, feeling the scalding heat of thrashes and jerks of Master's stiff leather belt. No clothing made all the whips hurt as much as the first time he got them, viciously cutting into naked tissue. Hanson could hear the slice of the air before the belt hit him bare, he could hear the other men too. Some silent, others indifferently trying to get the man to stop. But to no response, blood splattered onto the already stained floor. Liquid sounding clips finding old scars or new forming ones until they all became a mute sound and Tom stretched his limbs out while he lay flat on his tummy, without a twitch. They must have thought he was dead, they drew a foot to his stomach and stopped poking him when he remained unresponsive. He couldn't understand the mumbles, the blood from his back seeping into his ears. But he felt the vibration of footsteps under him and could only catch five words.

"Burn it to the ground." Then they were gone and the abandoned apartment got smokey, dark, and quiet.


	24. Smokey Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this bad? Feels bad.

It was early morning of the third day, street to street to street was all Booker knew at this point. He found the high school dealers -- now turned junkies. They led him to one source, where they first got their product, across town to the corner of another street. He knew it was the right information because whenever some smart ass druggie gave him lip, Dennis would smirk an unpleasant smile and violently grip the person and drag him down a nearby alley. Booker would press them up against the damp, urine smelling walls by their neck and demand in a low growl for the right details or else he would knock them right out of their addiction. They'd shrink under him and sing like a canary leading Dennis, mid-afternoon to early nighttime, all around the world. Until finally, one dealer stopped telling him street corners.

"Yeah the place's two, three blocks from here," The man creatively called York, for his deep Northern accent said, "Those guys are running me out of business. Twisted, deceiving bastards." He frowned.

"Alright thanks, man," Dennis threw quickly, anxiously trying to get on his bike and to the abandoned building _somewhere_  up the street. But the dealer stopped talking to his junkie for a moment to toss back, "'Ey yo, Muscles," Booker turned, "I don't care what you want or plan to do with all these questions you been asking me but uh, just hands off the boy, alright?" he said with a simple, compassionate tone. He turned away, effectively ending the connection once and for all but Booker's heart froze at "boy." Soon he was lifting the dealer off his feet and into the air, "Woah, woah!" The man cried out in surprise, "What are you doin'?"

"Shut up. What boy? Tell me now." The officer ordered. York's eyes were wide but he spoke regardless, in fear for his well-being, "Alright alright, just put me down, huh?" After a moment of consideration, Booker restrained, "Christ," The man said once he was back on the ground, he flattened the crumpled up corner that Dennis had made on his coat, "Not good for the reputation, y'know?" Booker glowered in tolerance until the man sighed, "Okay, okay. There's a boy, some kid. I don't know how old he is, but he's prey young. Anyway, they keep him locked up like a fucking prisoner."

"How do you know?" Dennis commanded. York moved around a bit but didn't lose eye contact for more than a second or two, "This guy, uh, uh," he snapped his fingers on edge, trying critically to remember, "Bruce or Goose, fuck some big guy. Bigger than you! Comes down with some other guys and he'd hanging outside, bragging to these dopes --" He gestured a thumb to the shaky junkies, "about some sweet piece of ass he has up the street. Said it was the best fuck he ever had, even if it was with a guy. Then Boss comes out, and they take off." York confessed casually. Booker took a trembling breath in and thanked the man, then he ran to his vehicle and took off. The adrenaline coursed like scorching intensity in his veins, filling his eyes with relief and a despair-like hope.

The fears of not being able to find the building was washed away by the blinding color of flames that rose off the barely standing apartment complex. Even from a distance, Booker swore he could feel the blaze sizzling his skin. The fire was rich in color and brilliant in depth, also growing twice in size by the second. It was breathtaking and Dennis was fixated for a moment.

But when a side of the building, near the back end, started to crumble and tear down like an avalanche -- Booker came to life and throwing his body off his bike, he ran head first into the flames. Immediately the dark puffs of smoke assaulted his lungs and burned his eyes dry. He coughed harshly and squatted instinctively, "Tommy!" he cried.

Waving the tainted air, he tried frantically to see through the thick gas. He could hear cackling from the fire and it sounded like a taunting chuckle. Booker wanted to cry, wanted to break down and sob then die in the heat of flames. What if he never found Tommy? Never got the chance to call him the biggest jerk for running off on him? Never told Tom that he actually didn't care as long as he was okay? Would never hold the young man in a protective embrace, stroking his hair back and laying millions of grateful kisses all over his beautiful face? The older officer's throat caught. What if Tom wasn't here at all? What if the men who had him, escaped _with_  him? What if Dennis dies here and no one ever saves his beloved Tom Hanson?

"Tommy!" He screamed out hysterically. He took a turn and entered a nearby apartment where the fire had originated. He took a deep breath and crouched down, unable to see even a little bit. His only chance was vocally and even then he had to stay low to the floor to get a good shout out. But he wasn't giving up, no matter how small and unlikely the chance.

"Tom, answer me! Are you here?" He said. Hesitantly taking a step forward, he heard a muffled garble and shrieked at the sound, "Hanson! Can you hear me?"

Again, an incoherent and distant mumble.

"Where are you?" he wailed hopelessly 

but when he took a tentative step, his boot made contact with a fleshy curve. he quickly dropped to his knees and flipped the unconscious body over and sighed heavily when he realized it was Tom. Booker leaned close to his heart, bringing a finger to his jaw and gasped a shaky breath. 

Tom was alive, but barely.

"Okay," he said, struggling to grab the man in his arms, "Come on, Tommy," he said through clenched teeth, raising Hanson into the air and stumbling out of the apartment. Tom had gotten smaller, felt lighter but Booker couldn't stop weeping and his body crumbled inside as the possibility of Tom dying in his arms entered his mind.

By the time we got outside, he collapsed on the cement and held Tom dear to him. Fire trucks had already arrived and one firefighter noticed the two men and called out for a medic. Dennis didn't hear a word, didn't hear the sirens, didn't hear his own sobs. His eyes were locked on Hanson, his fingers pulling the sweaty strands away from his face, "Oh God Tommy, I'm sorry," he cried fitfully, "I'm so sorry." 

A paramedic got down to their level and gestured silently to take Hanson from him while also grabbing Booker too, a deep look of understanding on his face.The men mutely crawled into the back of the ambulance and as the men worked and talked to one another, Dennis' crying lessened and his hand held Tom's firmly.

The young man was quickly wheeled into the emergency room, no word on his condition given. The kind paramedic nodded for Dennis to stay put in the waiting room and Booker obeyed, knowing the man would come back. Sitting down placing his head into his hands, Dennis sniffed his runny nose and prayed for good news. It was all his fault. If Tom died, it was on him. 

And if such happened, Dennis Booker wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it. Then the paramedic and a doctor came out, walking over to Dennis and whispering to each other. Booker stood wiping sweaty on palms on his jeans, clearing his throat as the men finally approached.

"You are the man who came in with the other?" The doctor said with a straightforward tone. Dennis nodded and the men gave each other a look, then sighed.

Booker had already decided how he wanted to go out if the love of his life didn't wake up.


	25. Mutual Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please love me for my work.

Um.." the paramedic started nervously, "I'm not sure how to tell you this.."

"What we're trying to say is," the arrogant doctor stepped in with a seemingly sophisticated expression on his face, "The young man you came in with," but stumbled over his words, "He's sustained some severe injuries... in different regions.. he's also experienced some traumas.." The doctor then decided that he didn't want to waste his breath - confidence - on someone who it may or may not matter to, "I'm afraid I need to know who you are in relation to --- the young man." The inconsiderate and unconcern attitude of the man was infuriating to Dennis, the emotional game the doctor was unknowingly playing with Booker also had the young officer blowing his last fuse.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he mumbled under his breath, "His name is _Tom Hanson_. Got it? Tom.. Hanson." He explained slowly,"I'm Dennis Booker. I'm a cop, he's a former. We used to work together. I _know_  him." A flash of pure devotion passed Booker's eyes and while the paramedic was unfazed, the doctor held a disgusted look as he quickly grabbed the innuendo Dennis didn't intend.

But Booker did notice his reaction, "What the fuck are you looking at? Put your ignorant opinion aside and do your job, he's a fucking human being!" He yelled, "He's been through hell at the hands of the lowest scum on Earth,"

Booker moved towards the ignorant doctor, jabbing a finger in his middle aged chest, "I wanna know if he's alive." he said in a low snarl, "Once I know he's okay I'm calling his best friend, _officer_  Doug Penhall, to stay with him when I'm gone." He stalked closer towards the retreating medical man who now had a frightened look covering his features, "Because I'll be looking for those _fuckers_  who hurt Tommy and I need to be sure that he's _safe!_ " He finally yelled.

The doctor flinched at the sharpness and the caring paramedic stepped forward saying gently, "Tom's alive. He's resting now but it looks like he's going to make it," The soft sincerity bought tears to Booker's eyes but he refused to let them fall from his tense eyes, even when the paramedic turned fully to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "He's going to be alright, Dennis." He smiled delicately, "You saved him."

A moment passed for the young officer to absorb the paramedic's sure words. Booker murmured a thank you and the still frozen doctor cleared his dry throat, "You can see him." He permitted. He didn't meet Dennis' eye and Booker thought it was because he got a taste of his own medicine -- no pun intended. But the paramedic patted Booker's back telling him calmly to "come on," when the dark haired man glared too long.

The paramedic, who never gave a name and Dennis was too worried about Hanson to ask, strolled Booker to the hospital room. His beeper went off as soon as they reached the doorknob. Booker couldn't deny the slight ache in his heart.

"I'm sorry I have to go.." he said regrettably, "I could stay if --"

"No," Dennis cut him off with a grateful grin, "Go save another life, I'm," he scrambled for the right adjective, "I'm here."

The paramedic smiled and leaned in close to whisper, "I know you love him," He told Dennis deliberately, "So take care of yourself. If its you he's got at his side, there's no way in hell he won't come out of this a stronger man." He finished with a wink and walked away, leaving Dennis with a bit of hope in his conscious. 

But when the older man did walk in, he wasn't nearly prepared for what he saw.

There lied Tom Hanson. Looking pale, tiny, almost deadly thin, and weak. His hair was a dirty tangle of ripped seams and day old cum. Booker took a deep breath to calm his nerves but the image of Tom kneeling, forcefully and submissive, in front of those horrid men still gave him a bad itch to destroy the entire hospital. 

Tom's face was slightly bruised and looked to be throbbing in a few places. However on further inspection, Booker realized they were viscous love bites. His eyes were closed too but Dennis could still see the tired lines under his lids and wondered, sadly, how many nights Tommy must've stayed awake, to afraid to sleep in the same house as those monsters.

Those monsters who ripped at his beautiful skin until it shined red on his jaw and neck. His bottom lip was swollen a bit, like someone kissed him a little too hard. That made Dennis rise with fury, how a person could force such a sweet intimate gesture from the man -- even if he was so unbelievably attractive, it gave them no right. He stroked Tom's cheek with the side of his thumb, praying to God those men didn't ruin such a display of affection for him. 

His eyes roamed innocently down the length of Tom's body and he soon regretted taking a peak. He took a sharp breath in because through the thin hospital gown were deep, mean slashes to his bare chest, stomach, and sides. Even bandaged, the blood seeped through and settled on the surface. 

When the emotion came over him back at the abandoned building, it must've been overwhelming because Dennis didn't remember feeling any blood on his palms or touching the open wounds on Tom's flesh. He couldn't even remember if Tom had any clothes on when Booker found him.

But as the dark haired officer looked down at himself, he saw that his shirt was spotted with blood.

With Hanson's blood. He looked at his hands but there were only faint marks of redness -- his nervous sweat effectively washing it away. He closed his eyes then, clinging onto old memories of sweet, healed Tom. His mind flashed innocent and intimate moments when he was with Tom and when he wasn't. 

Tom at his desk, working on a report with a hard look of concentration on his face. The flash of slight adoration that was covered with annoyance when Dennis first called him  _Tommy._

And the moment he knew there was a possibility Hanson liked him when Booker was upset and called the man by his last name, receiving a somber and hurt expression on the brown haired man's face.      

The realization that he had his lover's blood literally on his hands was too much to bear however, and he was quickly drawn out of his most fondest memories. He tried to remember that he didn't hurt Tom, directly, and calmed his heart to beat back to an even pace. Dennis looked back at Tom, vowing not to shed a single tear until the motherfuckers who hurt Tommy were executed. He stroked Hanson's cheek again and whispered a promise, "I'll get you back your justice, Tommy. You can count on it."

A few hours passed of Dennis rotating between watching Tom for safety and waiting for him to wake up. He yawned heavily closed his eyes and scowled, sinking uncomfortably in the square hospital chairs. He would have voted to slip into bed with Tom, regardless of theirs unspoken relationship, but he didn't think a nurse who'd come in to check Hanson's vitals would take a liking to it. His shirt was still stained with dry blood and Tom was gravely injured. Not to mention Booker's outburst that he's sure traveled throughout the hospital from the breath of the dickhead doctor. The memory of the man boiled Dennis mad. 

"You're way too hot to be frowning so deep." A voice rumbled in a scratchy throat. Booker immediately sat up wide awake and looked to find the young man sitting upright, drinking water from inside a pink plastic cup and white straw. He clutched it with two hands and smiled warmly at Dennis, which the older officer returned enthusiastically. Booker knew from his grin that Tom was telling him that he was just fine. He moved happily to Hanson's side and instinctively started to reach for his hand but stopped. Thinking that sudden contact wouldn't be good until he learned of Tom's true state.

"Hey, you." he said casually. Tom slurped the last of his drink and set it down, "Hey yourself." He said just as normally. They stared at each other intently, a question was hanging between them and both were too content with the moment to interrupt it.  Although Dennis found it to be very important to get to the bottom of Hanson's pysch. 

"Tommy --" He started but the young man cut him off, "I'm fine!" he said confidently, "I'm okay, Dennis." He moved suddenly and laced his fingers in between the spaces of Dennis'. Booker was a little shocked to say the least. 

Why was Tom acting so blasé? So calm? And why was it coming out so honest? Maybe Dennis was still a bit of a pessimist but the hell Tom went through had him expecting.. well, not this.

"Tom.. Do you... remember anything? Do you remember how you got here?" He couldn't stop once he started, "Where you were before? What happened? Do you remember anything?" Booker asked a little too urgently.

His eyes darted between Tom's with a concern but the younger man just looked at him with wide present eyes. Like he was only here, not going back into his mind for a thing. But after being hit with so many questions, Hanson's eyebrows pushed together as he scoffed, " _Of course_  I remember." He snapped, "Did you think I'd forget something like that? I remember everything that happened. I Just," he softened and squeezed Dennis' hand, "Can't we forget all _that_  for a little while?"

A sad yet deep look of longing moved in Tom's eyes, he tugged slowly on Booker's hand until they were eye level. Dennis' breathing had quickened at Tom's motive, he asked breathlessly, "What do you want to talk about?"

Hanson smirked wickedly at the acceptance and wrapped a firm hand around Booker's neck pulling him until their lips were inches apart, "Nothing." he whispered. 

He then pressed his pink pout to Dennis and sucked his lower lip until Booker moaned into his mouth. At the entrance, Tom swiped his tongue into the inviting mouth and stroked Booker's tongue with his own. He let go of Dennis' neck when the older man placed both his hands flat on the bed, side by side to Tom's face. He leaned in closer so Hanson wouldn't have to stretch so much and held Tom's jaw in his palm. Stroking at the marks the men left, trying to get Tom -- and himself -- to forget for a while.

So he allowed the warm familiarity of Tom's mouth to be as arousing as it always was, the taste and feel of bumpy teeth and a skilled tongue sent a charge of heat to Booker's cock. He groaned deeply and it vibrated to the back of Tom's throat. At the sound of his lover's enjoyment, Tom sent his hand to the officer's bulging crotch, mounding the hardness with friction and lust, "I want you, now." he  whispered frantically. 

Booker moved from Tom's mouth reluctantly to moan wholeheartedly into Hanson's ear when the young man pressed and rubbed slow and fast, 

"Fuck Tommy," Dennis moaned longingly, "Ohhh it feels so good.." Tom licked his way back into Dennis' mouth and indulged himself with a deep kiss. He pulled back, still teasing Booker at a great pace, "Do you want more?"

The room was swept with passion and Dennis was in the eye of the storm. It was thrilling and absolutely terrifying. A nurse could walk in, a child, that _doctor_. But Dennis didn't care who found them or how they even got there. Because right now, Tom was here and alive, wanting Dennis the way Dennis wanted him.  He thought nothing of the future, he was stuck in the now and Tom was with him.

He nodded his head stiffly, begging for his lover to go on. Tom was all too happy to continue as he sat up more and began to rattle Booker's belt and whip it from the loops, Dennis got sudden cold feet. 

He slowed Tom's advances, "Wait, wait.. what if we get caught?" But Tom had already lowered Dennis' underwear and now held the older man's erection in his hand. He stroked the top of his cockhead with one clean sweep and Dennis moaned erratically, "Never mind, never mind." He said rushingly as he dragged his mouth back to Tom's, devouring each other hungrily. 

Hanson continued to stroke, gradually picking up speed, "Oh God.. fuck, fuck, fuck," Dennis breathed heavily through his teeth, "Fuck Tommy, come here," he said moving a hand down Tom's body to rest on the man's hard cock but Tom used his other hand to push it away and shook his head fast, "No, no. It's okay, just let me.." he said, shoving his tongue deeper down Booker's throat.

Dennis wanted to object, wanted to return the pleasure Tom was giving him but decided against it because of the serious look in Hanson's eye. Tom's fist worked fiercely and vigorously over Dennis' erection and precum started to weep heavily. 

"Oh shit, shit, shit.. fuck uhnn," Dennis groaned, pulling away from Tom's lips to press his forehead solidly against the younger man's.

"Come on, baby." Tom moaned, his hidden erection weeping precum as well. He licked, sucked, and kissed at Dennis' tasty neck. His own orgasm rising from the sound of Booker moaning his name in his ear. He quickly shoved his hand down into the white sheets and began stroking himself rapidly and in pace with the other man.

Booker gasped, "I'm gonna come, oh fuck I'm coming. I'm coming," Dennis moaned loudly until finally, "TOMMY!" he screamed as he came, spreading hot semen all over Tom's fingers. At the erotic sound and feeling, Tom came a few seconds later with a struggled look in his face and hard shout, "OH FUCK."

They breathed slowly on each other skin for a second, swallowing their throats clear until Tom smiled small and kissed Booker tenderly. He then tucked Dennis back into his jeans and shyly asked him to find another hospital gown. Booker chuckled softly at the younger man's blush, stroked his hair back and kissed his forehead.

He disappeared into the closet and found a clean set, laughing a bit he called out, "Hey Tommy, you sure you want to change 'cause --"

But he froze at the sight of Tom standing with his back to him, pulling the stained gown over his head. Hanson had struggled out of his gown a bit and when he looked down he couldn't understand what happened to his once beautiful body. He turned and found Dennis. 

He couldn't speak, he couldn't move. Tom was standing naked before him and the sight was the most painful thing Dennis had ever seen. Tears welled in both of theirs eyes and the gown slipped from Booker's fingertips. The younger man didn't realize how bad it was and the older man couldn't grasp why it was so bad. 

Both had one thought:

Murder. Those. Bastards.


	26. Promises and Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am my favorite writer because of this chapter.

The look on Tom's face was heartbreaking. His eyes met Dennis' and soon crinkled under scrunch ed eyebrows and tearful eyelashes. The young man's hands poked at his bruised and bloodied flesh, a flood of tears weeping through his dark eyes and sending a hot line of blood through his nose and throat. His stomach trembled at the sight of his broken body and before Booker could rush over to him and pull him warmly to his form, Tom was off.

"No, no, NO, _NO!_ " He screamed feverishly, running into the bathroom with shaky hands and disbelief in his heart. 

Booker was unable to move, his own flaming tears coming to consume his vision. He knew Tom was in bad shape, he _fucking_  knew it but allowed Tom's need for comfort and intimacy to blind him from the fact. Hanson needs a goddamn friend, and Booker was not being a very good one.

By going along with Tom's desires, he distracted the man from receiving the time to properly understand what he had been through. To ease him into the reality of his injuries and possibly morphed psychological state. Once again, Dennis had screwed up and he scolded himself for it harshly.

But then an abrupt crash sounded from the restroom and was followed by cracked glass falling. It surged a protective instinct in Dennis and he ran to the open doorway and found Hanson on the ground, cradling a bloody fist in his lap with a head bowed in shame. Booker looked up to see the shattered mirror above the sink splattered with bits of blood. 

"Oh Tommy," he said quietly and shuffled over to sit next to the younger man, whose face was covered by his remaining long bangs. He took Tom's injured hand in his palm and examined the gash over his knuckles, "We have to get you stitched up." He said softly. 

Booker was close enough for Tom to lay his head on his shoulder comfortably, "Why would they _do this_  to me?" he whispered in a trembling voice. Dennis knew Tom wasn't nearly as fired up now and the pain was washing over him like a wave. He put a guarded arm around his frail shoulders and pulled him close, talking hushed into his hair, "I don't know, Tommy." he answered honestly, "But I promise they're going to pay for what they did to you." 

Tom looked up with bleary eyes and asked in a baffled voice, "Why do you still care about _me?_ " Dennis gave him a puzzled look but Tom continued, "After what I did. Running off with that, that fucking _psycho_!" He shouted regretfully, he yanked his face away from Dennis' confused gaze and ran his fingers to the ends of his scalp and pulled fiercely, "What the fuck is the matter with me?! This is all my fault! I shouldn't have left you when you were in the hospital. I shouldn't have gone to that _stupid_  bar. I shouldn't have gone home with that guy. I shouldn't have left the fucking house! What if i had just, if I hadn't, if I-I-I," he whimpered helplessly with closed eyes. 

He choked on his wails until firm hands gently unlatched the lock he had on his hair and pulled him tightly to the other's chest. Tom clung on and sobbed into the embrace, taking relaxation from the calm hug and soft murmur that sounded, "What happened to you is _not your_  fault. People hurt you in ways that," Dennis paused, spoke truthfully, "I don't even know how I'd handle." 

He managed to swing Tom a bit in his arms, like a small child who needed to be protected at all costs, "And they had no right to do what they did. I don't care what their reasons are, there is no excuse. This is not your fault and you are not responsible." He pulled Tom to meet his devoted gaze with two large hands on his chiseled cheeks. 

Dennis knew what he was about to say, looking into those deep milky, tearful brown eyes. He thought maybe he shouldn't, maybe it was wrong to bring in one's personal feelings to such a dark situation. But seeing Tom, alive and breathing, in front of him -- he remembered how many times he lost the younger man, and how hard it broke his heart that he felt the sharp edges would puncture his inner organs and he'd bleed out onto the cold hard floor.

He lost sight of the beautiful former officer and life was too damn threatening and unpredictable to bite your tongue, "And I care because you are the most erratic, difficult, stubborn," He watched Tom's face fall at the truth and smiled warmly to himself, "Beautiful, resilient, caring, kind, noble person I've ever met." He watched Hanson's eyes shine with a slight hopefulness and Dennis could see the mirror of himself in the gleam of Tom's eye. Never again would he lose his chance, "And I'm in love with you, Tommy." He smiled glowingly, "Yeah, I'm in love with you."

It felt so right, so clear and so true, "I always have been and  _probably_ always will be," he chuckled softly and watched the way Tom's eye kind of popped with a familiar light, then he said seriously, "No matter what happened to you, I will never stop loving you."

Tom leaned in and pressed his full pout in a tender kiss to the older man. He felt a warm feeling of belonging rumble through his stomach and up his heart. Though he was sure and this moment had him all tangled up with a trust and devotion he longed for and needed most, it wasn't right just yet. He had to be sure he loved Dennis for more than what he was giving Tom based off the circumstances. Only when he was absolutely healed, would he give himself to Dennis. Because Dennis deserved the best and the most, and Tom knew he was at his least and low. And no matter how much it hurt, he would push himself to heal so he could love again. More than anything and anyone, he wanted to love Dennis Booker with his entire being. He whispered intently, "Its time I tell you everything."


	27. Stand By You

Booker opted to get Tom's hand fix before they did anything further. It was a delicate situation after what Booker admitted but neither man said a word. 

He watched on at Hanson's side, cringing a bit every time Tom's flinches dismembered his features. It was just a tiny needle and string of thread but it cause the young man such an obvious discomfort that Dennis couldn't help thinking about the look of anguish and suffering on Tommy's face when those savages were raping him, beating him, and humiliating him. 

Dennis found it difficult to admit that he wasn't entirely sure he _wanted_  to know. To have those revolting, sickening images in his head. He stood by what he said to Tom but the reality of their situation grew surreal. He didn't know if he'd be able to keep his composure and the faint doubt he may react poorly plagued his mind with distress and uncertainty. 

An act of pure evil and negligence made it damn near impossible for Dennis to understand as a _mental disease_. How could a human being take a gesture of warmth and attachment and turn it into a despicable and vile hellhole? Why would a person do that to another person who never did a thing? For release, control, dominance,  _lust?_

Booker' face hardened at the thought of those men lusting after his Tom and going so far as to take away his will to be with him so intimately. Then a small little nudge transpired in his lower stomach, he looked down to see Hanson's elbow lightly jab him. Naturally, he leaned a bit forward and put a consolidating hand on Tom's shoulder and gently massaged his bony limb. Tom twinkled appreciatively at him and Dennis returned it happily.

Tommy needed a rock, someone to keep his spirits high and fire alive. The second the younger man was left to the horror he experienced, Dennis had a undeniable suspicion that the young man would fall back into the cracks. But no, he thought as he smiled to the head below him, Tom was safe now and there would be no retreating. Through anything that came his way, Dennis wanted to be the one to stand by Hanson.

Booker leaned in close to speak only to Tom, when the doctor left for a moment, "I'm here for you, Tom. Okay? I want to be here." Hanson looked up into the loyalty driven eyes and beamed, "I want you here, too." he responded surely. Dennis nodded once and straightened when the doctor returned with a cleaning kit for Tom's open wound. 

The distraction was good for both of them, they each needed to think for themselves but refused to be too far from each other. Booker felt it unbearable to have Tom out of sight and he wasn't really sure why. And Hanson felt it aching to be without Dennis by his side and he knew why. Sensing Booker behind him, watching _for_  him and not at him, and knowing that Dennis wouldn't hurt Tom, in any way shape or form, made Hanson feel something he had longed for and thought he would never feel again -- _Safe_. 

He knew that Dennis knew that Tom hadn't reciprocated the deep and intense feeling that the older man had confessed. Somehow after the fact, it was taken as common knowledge for both of them. Tom to hear it and Dennis to say it. Nothing was truly expected so feelings couldn't be disappointed.

But Hanson had a million questions going at him in a second, the most occurring one being -- _Where do we stand now?_ Were they together, again? Though they could've been, and Tom felt it run deep to his core that they could be one once more, it felt different. Things had changed and eggshells now became their streets and sidewalks. Tom figured to just be happy with the unspoken arrangement and deal with the tasks he had in front of him first. 

Tom promised himself to spill his guts and cut his veins, to give away all that happened to allow the healing to commence. A strange form of excitement unsettled itself in his stomach when he thought of telling Dennis what had happened before his final whipping. 

Tom had mouthed off to that _bastard_  once known as Master and in the moments before, he knew he loved Booker. The tender and rough parts of the man tore a deep feeling into Hanson's bones. It was Dennis who gave him strength to push back and gain back what he had willingly gave up and forcibly lost -- his identity. 

He was and _is_  Tom Hanson. 

They waited for the doctor to leave Tom's room to feel the edgy silence that somehow formed. Booker pulled a chair to the side of Tom's bed and took a deep breath. Dennis knew what he had to do and he _really didn't like it_. But it had to be done, he had to have an uncompromising voice. No matter what, Hanson needed help. And as much as Booker hated to be the jerk to do it, he knew no one else would do it as sternly as he.

"Okay.. We have to talk," he started. Tom had shuffled into bed and now sat with his arms crossed, looking protective and curious, "Alright." he answered cautiously.

 _So far so good,_  Dennis thought and sighed, "Alright, Tommy. I'm sorry but even if you decide you don't want to tell me -- you have to talk to someone." Tom's expression didn't change, it was like he was waiting for a bombshell to fall so Booker continued, "We have to get these pricks." Then Hanson slumped back into the pillows, realizing it wasn't _just_  a therapist Dennis wanted -- and Tom knew he needed -- him to see. 

It was the cops, it was the report, it was the trial. Anxiety and fear electrified Tom's blood and he suddenly felt nervous and uneasy. Like any sudden touch or word would cause him to combust. Dennis didn't notice too quickly because Tommy was a born cop, and he knew how to keep a straight face and Dennis was trying not to choke on his words.

Booker went on, "You gotta get an evaluation, maybe you can just talk to the one guy. You know, for personal and professional reasons. I don't know how long it'll take or how many sessions there'll be but," Dennis met his eye, "you need it. I want you to get better because you can't bullshit me, Tommy. You're _not_  okay. So just do it because there going to need it to see if you're capable to go back undercover --"

At the sound of his former job, Tom quickly began to object, "Whoa, whoa, no way. I, no I'm _done_  being a fucking cop! I _hate_  being a cop," He lied feverishly, "I'm through." But Hanson forgot just how stubborn and knowing Dennis really was.

"Come on, Tom." He said quietly, the reaction was unexpected so he tried to stay calm, "You love being a cop --"

Hanson awoke at the feeling of being tied down and controlled, and he really didn't like it,"Hey fuck you!" He shouted with a venom, and a fury in his eyes that told Dennis that it wasn't him Hanson was seeing and raging against, "How the fuck would you know what I want? You can't tell me what to do! I don't have to do fucking squat! You can't make me do anything!" He started to shake a bit and before Booker could question, Tom suddenly started pounding on his stomach with aggressive fists. The outburst was a shock and honestly, quite frightening for Booker and he immediately stood and made the chair fall behind him. 

When Dennis was on his feet, he got a grip on Tom's wrists and pulled them down to his side and waited for Hanson's thrashing to cease. The snarl on the young man's face faded when Booker stared down at him with a familiar trusting look, "It was the ones from the case, wasn't it?" The older man said when Tom finally stopped and looked faintly up at him.

The fire slipped from Hanson's tongue and he fell against the pillows even deeper and nodded in despair, "They could've been planing this all along." he whispered softly, looking away from Dennis' gaze.

Booker stroked his wild hair back and spoke in a normal tone, "I'm sorry, I should have taken that into consideration.. That was stupid of me to say.." Tom still wouldn't look at him and Booker felt it was partly because he was angry at him and because he was angry at himself. He chose to take the heat, "Guess I'm still an asshole, huh?" He grinned when Hanson couldn't stifle a chuckle and finally looked back up at him.

But then they were staring intensely at each other and the elephant in the room was obvious and thick, Tom knew it and whispered in a haze, "Dennis I really want to kiss you right now, but" he stiffened under the amount of want he he had for intimacy and not lust and for the older man, a feeling that scared him, "I don't think its a good idea." And he just wasn't ready.

Booker's heart felt the rejection and his eyes softened, obeying Tom's wishes and stepping away to smile reassuringly and shrug indifferently, "That's okay," he said, " _Just friends_  don't really kiss, anyway." He said, moving towards the window to relax himself from the little crack at his heart. 

Tom started to say that he had misunderstood but another doctor came in with a nurse and a somber look on his face, "Mister Hanson, I presume?" He arched an eyebrow to Tom's freshly wounded hand, "Ah, yes. I've been informed that you are conscious and it is essential that we take care of -- _business_." He said knowingly. He didn't come off condescending or rude, just a formal guy who only wanted to help. He handed Tom a clipboard and pen, "Sign this form and we can get started, and be done right away."

Hanson looked down at the rape kit form and eyes the dotted line. He shuddered at the sudden realization of what happened to him. Dennis was at his side in an instant, speaking nearly inaudibly into the younger man's ear, "It's okay, Tommy." he helped, completely forgetting - or ignoring - the awkward moment that had just happened between them. The former officer signed it quickly handed it back.

The doctor looked it over and gave it to the nurse who proceeded to set it down and close the door with a thud. The sound made Tom jump from his quickly building anxiety. She returned to rape the curtains around Tom's bed and the rattling of metal made Hanson's lower lip quiver. He reached out and gripped Booker's hand, "I don't know if I can do this." he admitted. He stared deep into Booker's eyes and flinched at the sound of latex gloves being slapped onto bare flesh.

Booker didn't really know how to react to the contact and grabbing feeling in him that said _you're someone to me_  in Tom's eyes. He looked to Dennis like something more intimate than friends but to say he looked at him like a lover was misleading. Tom was just scared. And Dennis was the one there. If Penhall were here, it would be him to hold Hanson's hand. This wasn't a love connection with lustful motives, this was a blind need for comfort.

It didn't change the warm gush that erupted in Booker's veins but it did mean he had to keep his blade down to avoid spilling it all on the floor to Tom's feet. His love was out in the open and Tom hadn't reciprocated it, which was _fine_. Because Dennis could finally tell him, Tom was here and alive. So many chances had been given and brutally stolen from Booker's palm, he couldn't let that happen again. He squeezed the nervous hand and gave a gentle smile to the face that looked tearfully up at him, in search of safety.

Dennis thought that if they only remained friends throughout this entire ordeal, Dennis would just live with the heartache. If Tommy was okay and knew that Dennis would always love him, that was enough, "You are the bravest person I know. You've been to hell and back, now its time to go home."

The doctor curved shyly around Dennis and into Tom's sight when he cleared his throat, "Errr, I'm afraid we need to clear the room." Before Booker could protest, Hanson pulled his hand roughly and said panicked, "No. I want him to stay." The doctor started to apologize and gestured to a friendly plump nurse who smiled politely but Tom shook his head stubbornly, "I want _him._ " He said again.

The doctor looked over at the two men for a moment until he complied sympathetically. The nurse respectfully showed herself out and left the men to their examination. Both men didn't say a word when the doctor instructed Tom to lie down and relax. He told Hanson to bring his knees to his chest and breathe in deeply. The doctor was very professional and efficient, always referring to Tom as Mister Hanson and did his best to ease the pressure and nervousness.

Tom's eyes welded tightly and he clenched Booker's hand, breathing shakily. Dennis felt for the younger man and decided to overstep his boundaries a bit. Using his free hand, he stroked at Tom's sweaty hair and whispered so only Hanson could hear him, "You're doing so well, Tommy. It's almost over, come on. You can do this, baby." The loving term he had used before in their relationship, slipped out accidentally and though Booker felt he should be taking it back Hanson hadn't really reacted to it.

Tom's jaw was shut so hard, he was worried he'd gasp out for air and the doctor would mess up, having to start all over again. But through his concentration, he heard Booker's words. He believed them and pushed himself to hang on a bit longer until relief was given and God was real.

The doctor sighed and removed his gloves, saying brightly that he was all finished. Tom took in a sharp breath and looked up to see Dennis --  still stroking and staring at Tom's hair, trying desperately not to cry. The younger man's tears were washed away by the caring eyes of the man above him, he sat up and reached out to comfort Booker but the older man just smiled reassuringly.

"Well, we'll have the results in a few weeks, Thank you for your cooperation." The doctor said, kindly interrupting the moment the two men often had. He moved towards the door but spun around to say one last thing, "I am terribly sorry for what has happened to you. Those people deserve to rot." he said with a empathetic face before leaving.

Hanson turned to Booker who stood at the foot of his bed, straightening the blanket flat, "He's right you know,"  Tom said, crawling to Dennis and sitting on his knees with both hands on the older man's shoulders. Dennis wasn't quite ready to look up and Tom allowed him his time, "We're gonna get these shitheads. I can get better now." He said genuinely, smiling small when Dennis met his gaze.

"I hate seeing you like that," Booker admitted softly, "I want those fucking assholes dead for what they did to you. And I want to be the one to pull the trigger." He said tearfully. Hanson merely showed an understanding expression and leaned in to hug the taller man.


	28. The Sweetest Thing

The next few hours were spent with Dennis waiting anxiously in Tom's room while the other took care of all his procedures in "patient only" rooms. Once he was done and came back, he gave Dennis a small pat on his shoulder because the older man had dozed off a bit. Booker caught his hand, not deeply asleep, and smiled when Tom grinned happily at him. He released the younger man and watched him disappear into the bathroom, a second later he heard the shower spring to life.

Getting to his feet, he stretched his aching body and looked down to notice his still bloody shirt. He figured Hanson would take a while and decided to sneak to the gift shop to buy a clean shirt, and head down to the parking lot to get Tom his things. 

After he learned Hanson was unconscious, he raced back to the smaller man's apartment and got him fresh clothes, so he wouldn't have to leave Tom's side once he got woke. He remembered instantly that he had to explain to Hanson that Dennis had to get rid of his small apartment when he was busy looking for Tom to pay rent. He managed to keep Hanson's much bigger home and his Mustang as well as Dennis' bike if he also sold his Cadillac. It seemed like a big deal but for Booker, it was just one more little sacrifice he was willing to make. 

Tom was standing in the bathroom, staring at his foggy reflection while the shower made steam. He wad relatively fine, with the luckiest of luck on his side. he experienced no smoke in his lungs or fractured bones. The doctors said that his slash wounds would heal perfectly and luckily they wouldn't leave a scar. But Tom's first few scars from his first whipping went on with no medical attention and would lessen in depth but always remain. Those were on his back, but if he didn't see them -- Tom didn't care. However, the obvious new ones made his stomach churn. He looked torn up and he wondered how he must look to the outside world. His face wasn't too worse off, it just looked like he didn't sleep enough but his body said a whole other story. His insecurities started to take over pounding him with insults of being unlovable that Tom had to get away from the mirror.

He retreated into the scalding shower and imagined all the bad things being washed away, the blood and semen just going down the drain and disappearing forever. He rubbed his skin raw with a bar of soap and thought about his next obstacle. It arrived with the smell of shame and sadness: Tell Dennis.

Hanson felt deeply that Booker had a right to know, and he wanted to tell him too. To get it off his chest and, make it somehow easier to, tell the police. But he felt unsure, unready, and quite nervous to tell the older man. 

What if Dennis looked at him different? What if he took back all he said in the bathroom when he held him, about being in love with Tom? _What if he never touched him again?_  Hanson could feel fresh sobs in his stomach but pushed the feeling away and stepped out of the shower. Still deep in thought, he dried himself and concentrated. 

He noticed Dennis trying very hard not to make too much contact and Tom wondered why. He was afraid to ask because he felt he knew -- maybe Dennis realized he was in love with a whore? And though feelings can't be   reasoned with, dealing with them is a choice. Maybe that's why they were _just friends_  But then when Hanson had to get his... first examination done, Dennis called him _baby_. So what was that all about? The whole situation was full of contradictions. 

He started to put back on his hospital gown and thought to himself that he couldn't let the fear the men installed in him control him now. He refused to let those _bastards_  keep him from getting back to who he was so he could be stable and clean and good again for Dennis to love. Once he was well again, he would tell Booker how much he loved him too. And if the older man didn't react ideally, so be it! Tom knew be would still be in love with him. Because it was _his_  face Hanson saw when the life was being stolen from his body. 

He walked out to see Booker turned toward him, pulling a plain white shirt over his head. Exposing his intimidating muscles and smooth flesh stirred a longing deep in Tom's groin. Dennis hadn't noticed yet and once the shirt was properly on, Booker fixed his hair maniacally with a goofy smile that wouldn't normally fit him if it wasn't so damn adorable. 

"Hey," the taller man greeted shyly when he spotted his audience. He handed Tom a shopping bag of clothes and shrugged jokingly when Tom looked up from it with an arched eyebrow and suspicious grin. Hanson decided to change right then and there Dennis had to swallow his arousal. Hanson was scarred, bruised, and much smaller than he used to be yet he still looked like a _God_ without clothes on, "You ready to go? You've been discharged. Wanna grab a burger or something?" he suggested nervously, trying not to show his obvious liking. He walked to the other side of the room and Tom had to resist the urge to run up behind him and throw himself into Dennis with a passionate kiss. 

"Yeah, yeah sounds good," he said pushing his hair back. Not a good time to have these thoughts. As he patted his hair, he felt patches missing and saddened at his strange coping method. That would be the first thing to go, no more hurting himself. 

He walked over to Dennis who was staring at a pastel painting but didn't seem to really be looking at it, Hanson reached out and kind of gave his hip a squeeze. He wasn't sure why he did it, and Dennis wasn't sure either. But it felt right to both, so they didn't speak of it and plainly walked out to the parking lot in comfortable silence.

To Tom's ecstatic surprise, it was a 1969 blue Mustang that beeped for them. Dennis watched on with pride as Tom gasped and ran to it excitedly. Booker saw the old Tommy shining out and realized after the initial rape kit, Tom had gotten over the other tasks without a batted eyelash. His heart swelled, knowing he was right. _Tom could absolutely do this_.

Booker tossed the keys but they dangled hesitate in Tom's hand until Dennis casually reassured him that he could do it. As soon as they got in and whisked around the corner carefully, Tom was driving like a natural in the direction of his apartment. 

"This feels amazing," Hanson exclaimed with a huge grin, "I missed this car! I can't believe you brought it here." he nudged Booker playfully in the arm and had it returned with an indifferent shrug, "Of course I would. I'm not always a Jackass, you know." he beamed meaningfully. Tom's eyes were wide as he drove and Dennis positioned himself to watch him. His eyes started to close slightly from the warm drive but Tom's joy was too precious to ignore, so he managed to stay awake until they got to the complex. 

Tom's good vibes faded once they reached Hanson's apartment door. Booker pulled out a key and gave a guilty smile when the smaller man pretended to be mortified and surprised. Dennis seemed to be in a pretty nice mood but Tom couldn't help feeling rotten about what he had in mind to discuss. He knew Booker hadn't set an expiration date to divulge into the touchy subject and the other man _certainly_ wasn't pushing him to reveal. But Tom knew if he didn't -- he never would.

"Um --" Tom started to say once they entered, but then he looked around to find a few opened boxes in his otherwise tidy apartment, "Are you putting me out?" he joked with a small grin, washing his first thought out.

He _would_  tell Dennis but he would wait for the perfect moment. In the meantime, it was his homecoming and he'd do everything but give into the apprehension that made him squirm internally.

Booker chuckled dryly saying quickly, "How 'bout we order a pizza before we start anything?" The thought of Tom being told that Dennis had moved in without an okay caused the older man a sheepish expression. He disappeared into the kitchen to make the call and to gather his thoughts and words, this was delicate information in a rigid situation and Hanson's backlash was unpredictable. Tom took the opportunity to silently lurk around his former home that somehow felt different while looking exactly as he had remembered it.

Dennis must've cleaned up because the living room didn't look disheveled from where Tom vaguely recalled destroying it. He wandered over to the hallway where his bedroom was and found it perfectly made up, almost as if it was welcoming him back. He moved to the foot of the bed and stared blankly. 

He registered that he didn't feel. He didn't feel _anything_. He didn't feel warm at the sight of the bed and the thought of him and Dennis entangling themselves drunk and passionate that one night that led to many sober experiences. But he didn't feel cold either at the memory of the bed that was the symbol of where his dignity was stripped of by that one man that brought him to a world of jumbled recollections of abuse and torment. It was just a blur that undid itself until there was just, simply, a bed at his knees. The vacant feeling of having no meaningful connection to the place where he found love and lost hope brought lifeless tears to Tom's eyes. He didn't feel a thing and part of his mind wondered if he ever would, or if he would always somehow ignore it and dump it on the former Tom Hanson. It would help in the present but this new, reborn Tom -- so to speak -- knew it wouldn't help in the long run.

A sudden hand on his shoulder startled Hanson and he jumped away with a flinch and stared at the recoiled hand in bewilderment when he noticed he had his own fist locked and loaded in defense. He dropped it apologetically at the sight of the dashing dark-haired man. Dennis looked unfazed with a somber expression. He looked a tiny bit like the bearer of bad news, his eyebrows furrowed and lips formed in a defeated pout.

The display made Tom alarmed and he hesitantly asked, "What is it?" The older man sighed and sat on the bed with a gesture for Tom to follow.

"I have," Booker started nervously, biting on his lip shamefully. Hanson felt jumpier than before with the serious tone in the air. His heart raced head on and his pulses jerked under his skin. He wanted to break something, scream, run from the room, anything to stop the tension that was swimming in his vessels, "A confession to make." Dennis said stiffly, tucking his hands between his legs and looking uncomfortably away.

Dennis sighed again and thought to rip the band-aid would be the way to go. Blowing out a low and nearly inaudible breath, he turned to the younger man, "Tom --"

But Hanson was jolted and shot off the bed like a rocket ship to outer space and faced Dennis with a stern yet petrified face, "I'm not a whore!" he interrupted. Booker looked puzzled and started to say something as he stood but Tom needed to get his point across, "No! Wait, just listen." Dennis stopped and waited patiently, thinking that if he ever wanted to get some deep underlying feeling from Tom, it would have to be the smaller man to proclaim it himself. Hanson took off, "I know I did some _shit_  things before all this and I know I did some more but that doesn't make me --" Tom thought back to when he readily gave him his body and soul to those predators and changed his mind, "Fuck, okay, no. It does, it does make me a, you know, but I mean, what I mean to say is --" He met Dennis' concentrated dumbfounded eyes and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He stood tall and said certain, "I may be a whore but that does  _not_ make me a bad person." He concluded.

A silence weighed on them as Tom half expected Booker to scoff skeptically and walk out while the other side was hopeful and curious. Booker held an unreadable expression throughout the entire outburst and Hanson stared at him pleadingly.

Finally, Booker's face softened and he moved closer until their hips were just nearly brushing against each other's. He brought up his strong, warm hands and cradled the smaller man's face. He smiled down with a sort of worshiped expression at the stressed face and said with wide honoring eyes, " I moved it without permission, you idiot." He teased lightly, " _That's_  what I was going to say."

Tom's eyes sparked with change and he asked instantly, "Reawy?" his face just a bit shushed by Booker's secure hold. The taller man laughed at the adorable sound and optimistic face, "Really." he assured, stroking Tom's jaw then he remembered Hanson's horrible thought, "I could never call you a whore Tom, I know you aren't." He spoke confidently, then removed his grip and rubbed Tom's shoulder comfortingly.

The moment was evident and Tom couldn't help but chuckle at how it got to that point. First misleading, then abrupt and now calm. Like a current, that's how they were, he thought. Always having that connection, but the nerves get in the way until they inevitably find their way back to each other, an ocean coming and going but returning to familiar places. It was just the chance Tom was waiting for, "Dennis I have to tell to something.. I'm in --"

Instantaneously, a swift ring rumbled through the home and both men froze in place at the unexpected sound, "Pizza guy!" a young voice shifted through the air and the two men smiled foolishly at each other, "I'll get it." He said, patting Tom's shoulder and giving him a playful shove. 

Hanson threw himself onto the bed with a gleeful sigh and thought if he just blurted out everything like he did in his outburst, all would be well. Not to mention how exciting being so comfortably close to Dennis felt. With all the trouble and darkness his life had spun into, things like this made him feel loose and at ease. The young man knew he had to savor them but he also knew he had to be careful because he hadn't told Dennis yet and that was key to more _possible_  moments. Soon the smell of greasy, cheesy tomato sauce and pepperoni floated to him like a feather in the wind. His nerves calmed and stomach growling was enough reason to get back to his feet and watch adoringly in the doorway as Dennis kindly paid the tab. Then a new question surfaced from nowhere.

"What's the money situation?" The brown-haired man said bluntly. Dennis halted for a second before shrugging and continuing his journey to the couch where he set the pie on the coffee table, "I don't know, I get this time, you get next."

"You know what I mean."

Dennis sighed, "I had to sell my car and apartment to keep yours."

Tom walked to the other side to sit beside Dennis and said sympathetically, "I'm sorry." But Booker merely grabbed a slice and took a bite, shaking his head unworried, "Don't worry about it. Anyway that's why I'm here, temporarily. When I go back to work I'm sure I can get it back, my place I mean." 

Tom sat back against the sofa and responded penitently, "You don't necessarily have to go." He suggested casually, reaching for the remote, "Apartment's big enough for the both of us, I wouldn't mind having you here." The taller man looked deeply into Tom's eyes when the man swung his gaze around and was locked with his, the softened genuine tone was obvious and turned Booker's head to mush.

"O-kay, yeah. Okay." He stumbled but covered it elegantly with a childlike delight. Hanson returned it with a nod and turned on the TV. It eased the mood into a casual, normal atmosphere while the two ate hungrily and gawked at the poorly made B-movie that somehow appeared on screen. They touched playfully and friend-like, laughing plentifully. All worries, cares, and stresses ignored for the time being. 

"Oh come on!" Hanson howled in disbelief, "Book, get a load of this!" He called out to his former partner who was chortling benevolently and staggering towards the kitchen with a gut full of bliss, "What, Tommy?"

The young man turned back with exhilarated eyes and a widened grin, "Blondie thinks its safe to shower after her bedroom door creaked open by itself. She lives alone!" He snorted when the awfully trained, big-breasted _actress_  gave a half-ass scream when the shower curtain was forcibly ripped back.

Dennis returned with drinks and handed off a beer to the man on the couch who was sitting Indian style like usual and like a child, "Looks like a bad  _Psycho_  remake." he observed. Tom laughed into his drink and exclaimed, "Yeah! That's exactly it. It's a Hitchcock rip-off!" 

Their stomachs exploded with euphoria and cackling laughter.

The movie took a life-saving turn when Blondie started making out ferociously with the Norman Bate's wannabe, "Oh _now_  she can fucking act!" Hanson yelled. He started falling over in his giggles and landing on Booker's side, Dennis naturally sat straighter to be a better barrier. Subconsciously, he wrapped an arm around the younger man. They weren't overly intoxicated or even a little tipsy but Dennis felt drunk on Tom and let his feelings splurge and explore. Hanson and he sat relatively still and watched on, Tom hadn't pulled away from the taller man's subtle embrace. The dark-haired man spoke quietly above his head, "I missed your laugh."

The former officer looked up with milky doe eyes and responded unfeigned, "I just missed you."

Soon, they were staring too deeply into each other and the casual atmosphere died out quickly, in an instant it was being replaced with a more romantic mood. Dennis was still taller, even sitting down, and could get a perfect view of all his remarkable features. The sharp cheekbones held a nicely red blush, his dark, soft hair matched his eyes, and his lips a full, plump pout.

For Tom, he could see all the love Dennis had. The older man wasn't hiding it and it wasn't the most obvious of things. Booker's eyes were usually mysterious and concealed but now they looked like a deep ocean swirl of pride and devotion. His mouth was parted a bit and Hanson could feel his soft panting on his cheek. No one else would probably notice the look of pure love on Dennis' face, they'd probably mistake it for lust, but Tom figured it _takes_ _a fool in love to recognize a fool in love._

"Do you want to kiss me?" The younger man asked in a daze of his own emotion.

Dennis nodded slowly, distracted by the look and feel of Tom so close to him, but didn't make a move because Tom wasn't finished talking. The smaller mam leaned in closer and licked his lips worriedly, "Let me tell you first."

Booker nodded again and positioned himself to face Tom when the other man pulled away. Hanson knew if he encouraged himself and Dennis, they would not be able to stop themselves and Tom wouldn't be able to get out what he had been through. It was important to Hanson for Booker to know. Maybe it destroyed the mood right now but it would be worse to have many and be restrained by guilt and obligation. 

Tom looked up into Dennis' patient, encouraging face and sighed readily. Booker took a chance and leaned forward, pressed his lips to Tom's forehead gently and gave him one little push in the sound of a whisper, "No matter what, you're still the sweetest thing." 

Maybe it was cheesy, Dennis thought, but it was true. 


	29. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its short, boring, but the ending makes up for it, I guess. X

"I guess I should start at the beginning.." Tom kick started, "The first time um -- the first rape, I mean, it was.. ruthless, sadistic, just plain brutal." Hanson winced at his recollection but continued, "We went out for a drink, the jump street gang.. and I was.. getting loaded," His face fell for the contempt he found he, still, had for himself. Dennis lifted his embarrassed face with the tip of his finger, giving a humane grin that the younger man took as motivation to go on, "I was... um, I was angry at you for getting into that accident which is really, fucking stupid because that wasn't your fault. But I was drunk and feeling bad for myself so I decided I'd go find a," 

He cleared the lump that formed in his throat at the distasteful intention he had at the time, " _good time_. Then I saw him and he looked harmless and I was wasted. I didn't even take into account his eagerness to jump into bed with me -- I mean, he wasn't drunk at all..." Tom rolled his eyes at himself and when he looked back to Dennis, the older man could see developing tears, "Fucking Christ, I really _am_  a goddamn idiot, and a fucking whore! He wasn't even drunk and I was hanging off rooftops, of _course_  he'd take advantage --"

Booker stopped him from getting hysterical by placing a steady hand on the smaller man's bouncing leg that stilled after the contact, "I don't want to hear you say that _fucked up shit_ , ever again. They put that in your head, Tom!" Dennis said begging for Hanson to understand, "Please believe me, you... are not a whore, or an idiot and what happened is not your fault. All them were not fucking, entitled to take advantage of you. None, okay?" He continued, leaning forward to grip that back of Tom's head. Booker's eyes searching for comprehension in the young man's rainy eyes, "No right."

The brown haired man's eyes seemed a bit less foggy but Dennis couldn't tell if he truly understood, perhaps that would be their next obstacle. Tom leaned back and as did Booker until they were no longer touching and Dennis nodded for Tom to resume.

"So, we came back to my place... we were, um," Tom started biting his lower lip and looked away from Booker's focused attention, "We kissed.." Hanson said, feeling the ignominy in his heart. Rightly so, because Dennis' jaw clenched at the image of Tom _not_  being forced into such a gentle touch. It seemed wrong to him, to be somewhat jealous of an action that didn't cause Tom pain but it just rubbed him the wrong way.

"It's okay, Tommy." He pushed after he calmed himself, realizing he was being unreasonable and rather ridiculous.

"...We did that, then he started getting too forward.." The young man started to quiver on the inside of his body as he grew closer and closer to exposing his memories that he buried so deeply, he couldn't even remember them that quickly, "He started kissing me too hard and I told him, maybe three times, to stop and he just didn't!" 

Tom took off like a bullet in a shoot out and Dennis was the debris caught in the middle to watch, "He started growing more and more aggressive, he had me pinned against the wall with my arms above my head and one of his hands started undoing my belt.  When I told him to stop again he slapped me hard in the face, then I started freaking out and tried to get away but he had a hold on me and I was _hammered_. He stared at him for a second, with this sickening fucking smirk on his face, next thing I knew I was knocked out."

"Jesus." Dennis mumbled against his palm that blocked his gaping mouth, he was listening so intently he almost forgot to breathe. Hanson went on, "I woke up, I dunno maybe he head butted me or something, and I was face down into the bed. I felt kind of drowsy, I didn't remember anything.. until he pushed into me again.."

"Stop," Dennis interrupted, pulling Tom's hand into his, "you don't have to do this, Tommy."

But the young man was just getting started, he stroked the back of Booker's hand once and shook his head, "Yes, I do." He said before getting to his feet and pacing around while Dennis watched on, fear in his heart for the Tom Hanson of old who went through such trauma, all alone, "It hurt like a motherfucker," He chuckled wearily, "I came alive then and tried to scream but he gagged me with my own boxers.. I struggled to move because he managed to get me tied to the bed. He was on top of me, breathing hard -- he was really going at it.. it felt like, a blanket of darkness and heat, just pressing deeper and deeper into me, I thought I'd suffocate.. I couldn't move, I was frozen.. all I could do was cry and beg but he wouldn't listen.."

Booker's face was disfigured from his palms that forcefully pressed against him. He found it unbelievable and downright scary, but Tom needed it and Dennis couldn't stop him now.

"Anyway he made a comment about how tight I was and _that's when_  he called me pretty. He came, got off and I thought it was over but he wasn't. He started," Tom cleared his throat uncomfortably, "whipping me, and asking me demeaning questions. He finished, said he'd see me soon and that was that." he finished with a deep and long sigh.

Booker immediately got to his feet and pulled Tom into his arms. It was so emotional and open between them that Dennis didn't care anymore if he stepped over the line. If Hanson didn't show any sign of opposition, then the older man would just show his love. He couldn't help it, Tom was like a beaten up puppy with hopeful love in his eyes and Dennis just wanted to protect him for the rest of his life.

"I'm so sorry, Tommy. I'm so, _so_  sorry." Dennis trembled into the crook of the smaller man's neck. Tom pulled back with a puzzled look, "Its not your fault, Dennis."

Booker suddenly dropped to his knees with anguish in his eyes, "Yes it is, I should've been there!" He shouted, Tom fell down to his side and listened, "I should have been there to rip that guy off you or to walk up to him in that bar and tell him to mind his fucking stare. I mean, God, Tommy," Dennis turned to face Hanson who looked confused, "I failed you." He said, choking on his erupting tears. 

This time the smaller man pulled Dennis into his embrace and they both just swayed for a bit. Subconsciously, Tom drooped tiny kisses on Booker's dark hair, "No. You didn't." After the tension eased Dennis sat up and sniffed his nose with a lazy smile, "We've gotten pretty emotional, huh?"

Tom chuckled at the vulnerable man who felt such guilt for what happened to him and shook his head, "We have all the right." He moved his body until he faced Booker and cupped his hands around the taller man's neck, "Now you know... some." He said with a small smile. Dennis lightly pressed his forehead to Tom's saying, "Its enough for now." He then softly nudges Tom back with his head and got to his feet. Hanson looked on as the beautiful, strong, overprotective man strode towards the kitchen. 

Dennis loved him before all this happened and Tom was starting to really believe he loved him now. He gave away the hardest part of his secrets, because of how vivid and leading it was, and now he felt kind of... _Free_. 

Booker returned with two beers and laughed at Tom's thoughtful gone expression, _always a thinker_  Dennis thought, and his still body that sat on his knees to the ground. He stood over him, just a few inches back, with a beer in each hand, "You gonna get up anytime soon?" He joked.

Tom looked up and a spark in his eyes made Booker catch his breath. Then he spoke, "Dennis, I love you." 

The sound of crashing glass bottles echoed throughout the apartment at the two unflinching men stared in disbelief at each other,  _"What?"_


	30. Dreamy States

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day everyone! Hope you are all safe and happy ;)

"You heard me." Tom watched with lustful eyes. Dennis immediately dropped to his knees, meeting the younger man's gaze, while dogging the broken piece of glass scattered on the hard wood floor, "Tommy, don't play with me." He said, beaming startled eye into Hanson's dark ones.

With a shake of his head Tom replied, "I'm not playing with you, Dennis." His eyes lit up like Broadway lights, "I'm in love with you." 

Booker let out a shaky gasp and placed both his hands on Tom's narrow hips, locking him with his still questioning stare, "Then don't do it again."

This time, Tom was thrown off and pushed his eyebrows together, "Don't do what?" Dennis licked his lips nervously but his voice didn't waver, "Don't break my heart again. Please." He answered with a longing sadness.

Tom felt for him and understood, he smiled softly and waddled a bit closer on his knees, "Never again, baby." He promised, moving close enough that Dennis could feel his hot breath, "You're the only one I want to hold me.." he said, swishing his hips to accentuate Booker's grip, "only one I want to touch me.." he continued, grabbing a hold of the older man's right hand and placing it at the base of his jaw, "and kiss me.." he gestured seductively, slowly easing his way to Dennis' mouth.

His words a mere vibration on Booker's gaping lips, just inches from a touch, waiting for Dennis to comply, "Oh, fuck me." The taller man groaned as he completed the distance, pressing his mouth roughly to Tom's in sheer desire. He used the hand Hanson guided to hold firmly in his palm, his mouth just volcanic eruption of _want_  and _need_.

Dennis was so taken by the familiarity and warmth of Tom that he pushed him onto the floor, hovering over Hanson's now quivering body. The younger moaned when Dennis dropped his hips slightly and the hard mound matched Tom's. With the sound echoing past Dennis' lips, he took it as his opportunity to dance with the smaller man's tongue. The stroking and teasing,  suckling and biting on his hungry tongue and full lips made Tom moan louder and soon he was starting to rapidly undo his belt, but Dennis stopped him. 

"Wait." he mumbled under the hot sloppy kisses, he pulled back and looked deeply into Tom's eyes, "Are you sure?"

Normally Hanson would be upset by this, he knew what he want and it was the man above him who stirred his body to ash. But he understood Booker's concern and smiled gratefully, "I'm sure.." He responded but paused when he realized that he did _want_  this but he wasn't sure how far he could go, "But maybe not all the way.. I want to!" He said quickly, "I do, trust me," He assured, biting his lip down in the face of all his fantasies, "But I'm not sure I can yet.. I don't want to... remember and freak out on you." 

Booker's face relaxed at the honesty of Tom's confession. He wouldn't be able to face himself if he had sex with the smaller man only to find out that he had a breakdown or flashbacks or God knows what. It made him feel a little more secure in their desires to love each other after so long. Hanson was looking at him with patient eyes and Booker lowered himself, gave him a good full kiss. 

He smiled mischievously and started to ease his body down Tom's until he was between the young man's bent knees. Hanson's eyes widened in arousal, "What are you doing?"

"I figure I owed you one for that handjob at the hospital," Dennis smirked while slowly pulling off Tom's jeans and thin white boxers. Booker's lips pulled at the sides when he heard the aching breath escape the small mans mouth and his eyes open in dark desire. But ceased for a moment to ask tenderly, "Is this okay?" 

Tom was sitting up on his elbows, staring down at the erotic sight of dark hair just a few inches from his bulging cock. He nodded shakily and his head fell backwards with a moan when Dennis pulled out his hardened organ. 

"Ooh, baby," Dennis seethed through his teeth at the sight of Tom, "Is someone a little horny?" He teased. Hanson slopped to floor in complete submission, his head staring up at the ceiling waiting for the pleasure he long missed.

" _Yessss_." He moaned as Dennis slowly stroked him to full length, "What do you want me to do?" Booker said, heated breath floating on Tom's cock.

"Kiss it," The young man moaned. Dennis smiled wickedly at his wishes and ducked his head to lay a gentle kiss over the size of Hanson's head. His tongue sweeping over the slit in one swift motion, never going past the tip. The stimulation just to his cockhead has Tom purring like a kitten for more. And Dennis knew it.

"What else do you want?" He asked between wet kisses. The feel of Tom in his mouth arousing him more and more until it got to the point where he had to undo his own jeans and drop his boxers to stroke himself as well.

" _Oh God suck me, Dennis_." Tom moaned loudly as his desire intensified. His head turned on his side and his mouth fell slack when Dennis took him into his mouth in one slick motion. His whole length down Booker's throat. Automatically, Hanson's hands went to Dennis' hair and kept his head in place.

For the older man, he couldn't believe how much he missed loving Tom. He sucked hardly on the younger man's cock, switching between going ferociously and slowly, causing the smaller man utter devastation.

"Oh _fuck_ , fuck fuck," Tom groaned at the erratic contact. His hips started to lift off the ground and drop with a bang at the feel of Booker's hot breath all over him. Tom's eyes welded shut, and his lower body began to make a grinding motion as he mouth fucked his lover.

"Fuck Tommy, you taste so good." Dennis moaned when he stopped for a moment to kiss up and down the young man's cock and reaching up to give sucking kiss to his inner thigh. Hanson couldn't take it anymore and put his hands at the side of his head in anguish, "Oh God," He said through a watery throat, "Make me come, I wanna come.. I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come." He shook breathlessly. 

Dennis heard him clearly and found his place where he sucked harder and fiercer, his hand working vigorously on his own cock. He could feel his own precum as Tom's and he moaned at the taste. The shock of soft vibrations rumbled through the measure of his desire and Tom could feel himself losing all inhibitions. He pulled roughly on Dennis' black hair and moaned louder in a cackling voice, "I'm coming,  I'm coming, oh oh _OH DENNNISSS_!" He screamed as his orgasm him hard, his load ejecting in one hot shot. 

Booker's fist worked impatiently at the sound of Tom's orgasm and when his warm semen hit the back of his throat, Dennis came with an extended moan and a muffled, " _Tommy_." As he lapped at his cock and licked at Tom's until he was clean. He heard the young man sighed happily and that's when he felt fingers softening his roots and pulling his face up. Hanson sat up and pulled the grinning face to his, giving a soft kiss to the beautiful man. 

Dennis pressed back pleasingly and fell on top of Tom's chest with a soft thud and quiet sigh. Hanson fell back and stroked Booker's hair lovingly, causing Dennis to dwindle into an exhausted happy sleep.

"Come on," The smaller man said after he noticed his lover's eyes closing, "let's get you into bed." He said nudging Dennis to wake up. Booker looked up with agreeing eyes and rolled off Tom to stand. When the younger man got to his feet, Dennis playfully got under him and pulled him up into his arms, "Hey!" Tom exclaimed, trying to sound angry. Booker merely smiled and walked them into the bedroom where he gently lied Tom down and crawled to his side.

Hanson scooted closer to the warm body and Dennis was so in tuned that he already had his arms out to hold him. They both sighed tiredly but didn't fall asleep just yet.

"Dennis?" Tom squeaked. 

Booker moaned quietly and stirred awakened, "Yeah, Tommy?"

Hanson paused for a moment, biting his  lower lip nervously, "Um, would you.. would you still want to be with me if I end up being fucked up in head?"

Dennis sat up confusingly at the strange question, "Where'd that come from?" 

"I don't know.. just, you know.. with therapy.. what if the doctor thinks I'm psychologically messed up or something? What if he says there's stuff I can and can't do?"

"Tom," Dennis said calmly, "It doesn't work like that. Maybe he'll say hold off but he won't cut you out of daily human life --"

"But what if I'm not human anymore!" Tom yelled, meeting Tom's worried eyes, "What if I can't... _be_  with you?" He dropped with a terrified edge in his throat.

Dennis shook his head slowly and pressed his lips gently to Tom's, "You're with me, right now." He assured, "And I _know_  we will be again, Tommy, I don't know when but we will be. You're so strong, you're going to survive this and I'll be there cheering you on." He said, "And if we don't, I'll still love you and I'll always want to be with you."

Tom's eyes swelled with relief, "Really?" He choked out with a breaking smile.

"Yeah!" Dennis exclaimed, leaning in closer to smile into Tom's face, "Can't get rid of me that easy, Hanson."

The young man laughed and fell back into Dennis' arms with just a bit more stability and belonging in his heart. Booker kissed the top of his head and stroked back until the small man fell asleep. He meant every word he said but Tom's fear about not getting better moved him in the wrong way. Hanson wouldn't feel like himself or be himself until he knew he had the right. It broke Booker's heart, looking down at the peaceful angel-like face on his chest, and decided he'd do what he thought was best when the moment occurred to do something. He fell asleep with some better decisions in mind and snuggled closer to the warm body beside him. 

Hours into the nights were fine, just fine. Until Booker felt a trembling beside him that kept jabbing him out of nowhere. He peeked under his lash to see if Tom was restless in his sleep but woke with a start when it was really Tom shaking in his sleep. He started to sit up when Hanson's screaming and panic shouts froze him.

"NO, NO, STOP! GET OFF ME, BRUISE. DON'T TOUCH ME, STOP HURTING ME!  SOMEONE HELP ME, HELP ME! DENNIS, DENNIS, DENNIS!" He yelled helplessly. Booker knew better than to make contact with someone, in any way, to wake them up from a nightmare. 

He shouted calmly, even though he was feeling everything but. Tom's blood curdling screams were heart stopping and the fact that it was _someone_  actually hurting Hanson in his dreams, scared Dennis even more, "Tommy, Its okay! You're safe, wake up! Wake up, Tom!" 

After a second, the young man's eyes fled open and he leaped forward into Booker's arms with tears in his lenses. He didn't say a word and neither did Dennis, they just embraced for a moment until Tom was ready to lay back down again. When Dennis followed, the young man found his hand and gripped it silently. 

Tom fell asleep soon after and Booker was faced with all his new answers. Tommy needed help. Not only from therapy but for safety. To know that no one was out there, hunting him down to hurt him again. That meant that Booker had to come clean about where he was when he took his weeks off and he had to get back to work to give Tom his justice. But he still had another week off and he couldn't just leave Hanson all alone, so fresh from his torment.

Dennis also couldn't leave Tom because he needed to make sure Hanson had someone to talk to if he wasn't around. Booker knew he wouldn't rest until those fucking nightmares in Tom's dreams were jailed or dead. But Tommy needed help, he needed to start his recovery before any sort of trials or questioning. Dennis knew he couldn't just wait a week for those men to disappear forever, so he decided he'd get someone on the case while he was with Tom.

One person came to mind and Booker already felt an uneasy feeling in his stomach at the thought of confessing what happened after he went to see the young man the first time. 


	31. Seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of turns I could go to with this one and I decided to bite the bullet and angst out. It was tough to write I'll admit, but it was needed.

The warm sunlight trickled past the shades and onto Booker's tan back. The luminous light awoke the officer, his eyelashes fluttering open to the sight of the one and only Tom Hanson. 

He was on his side, with a hand tucked under his cheek like a small toddler. His hair was a tangled mess of waves that somehow danced their way out of his peaceful face. Dennis watched him, admiring the calm look of Tom's prominent pout that breathed out soft little melodies of their own. Booker meant to stroke his face but found that his left hand, closest to Tom, was still clutching the younger man's. Dennis sighed doomed, quickly reminded of his mission to -- in a way -- out Hanson. 

In order to get the men who harmed Tom and get him help was to confess the entire ordeal to the police. Booker bit his bottom lip, unsure if Hanson was ready for such a step. He decided that he would try to persuade the young man and if he were against it, Dennis would have to go rogue. He knew it was wrong to disregard his lover's wishes, that were rightly understood, but Booker knew Tom would thank him for it in the future. At least, he hoped. 

The smaller officer began to stir awake and peeked out to see the older man staring thoughtfully at him. He grinned, adoring the soft sable rivers of Dennis' eyes.

"Good morning..." Tom mumbled through sleepy lips, "How are you?" 

Booker couldn't help but smirk at the glowing gaze and all tough decisions vanished and all he had in mind was the man in front of him, "Fantastic." Dennis pronounced enthusiastically, he raised himself a bit up from his chest and folded his arms underneath. Tom rolled more onto his back but his head still swung in Booker's direction, "I forgot how beautiful you look in the morning." 

Hanson's lips twitched into a smile that he didn't intend to have, "You're the pretty one of us both." Booker sighed with an open mouth and decided on a whim, to reach up and plant a sure unyielding kiss. When he pulled back, Tom beamed and asked when Dennis resumed his spot on his overlapping arms, "What was that for?"

Booker merely breathed with a happy moan through his eyes and rolled closer to Tom's side, drawing the small man into his arms, causing the man to giggle in surprise.

"You take my breath away. You silly," Dennis began pulling a chuckling Tom under his floating body. Using his hands to sweep at the top of Hanson's cheekbones while leaning in so close, they could feel each other's smiles on their lips, "Shy, foolish man." He whispered into Tom's exposed teeth, "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He told Tom certainly, watching the relief wash into Hanson's sea of milk chocolate, "And you make me _so_  hard." Dennis joked, sending a chortle through the younger man's body.

Tom smirked knowingly and pressed his body closer to the man above him, "I can tell." He responded, "You are so good to me, I think its my turn to be good to you."

"Oh no no no, Tommy," Dennis tusked, pulling away to slowly sit onto the edge of the bed, "I don't think we can do that until.." he said with a roll of his eyes, looking away from Tom altogether. 

But Hanson was in no mood for games, and crawled behind the older man, wrapping his arms around the muscular figure, "Until what?" Tom whined impatiently. 

Booker chuckled at the sound, knowing the effect he was having by abstaining, "Until someone admits how _incredibly_  attractive he is." He replied in a sing song voice. Hanson didn't care for the reasons and sped off with a quick answer, "I'm an attractive guy, okay? There. Now take your boxers off." He said moving a hand to Booker's tenting bulge but was quickly stopped by a firm hand.

"Oh, no, Tommy. For real this time," He turned to face the younger man who had blushing cheeks and unsure eyes, "I want you to look at yourself and see how beautiful you are." He straightened out honestly, "I don't want you to say bad things about yourself. 'Cause it's not true." 

Tom bit his lip considering this and realized that Dennis had a point. The more he was demeaning to himself, the more he believed it and worsened the damage the men had done to him. They were gone now and he was not the same little sex slave locked up in their closet. So why should their words still sound? Although, Hanson never had a good image of himself. 

"I think.." He started sluggishly, "I look my best when I'm with you.. because you make me feel.. warm and relaxed.. and normal. After everything that's happened, you're the only one whose been here and made me feel like more than those men thought of me." He uttered with convinced eyes and a proud smile for Dennis, who had to bat away unexpected tears at the young man's words. 

Booker turned with a start and landed on top of Tom, clasping his hands over his wrists and pinning them above his head, "I'm gonna make you feel so good, Tommy boy." Dennis said, dipping his head to run heated kisses up and down the length of Hanson's neck.

The young man's stomach was rapidly pumping and his whole body had stiffened at the sudden movement. A sharp breath was caught in his throat and his lips quivered fearfully, "S-s-stop." He mumbled, his pupils the size of flying saucers.

Dennis didn't catch the abrupt change in mood and continued on, instead laughing playfully, "Why, afraid I'll drive you crazy?"

At the ring of laughter, Tom's mind played taunting chuckles and pain inducing smirks, his body reacting violently, "GET OFF ME! GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME, DON'T TOUCH ME! GET OFF, GET OFF!" He thrashed uncontrollably, banging his head up and down as well as side to side. 

Dennis immediately understood what was happening and leaped off, hitting the floor with a bang. He sat shocked, silently watching Tom still and them glare at him with a profound hatred.

"Don't you dare touch me like that again." He growled. Booker was so jolted by the outburst that he nodded in a bobbing motion without a word. 

Hanson jumped off the bed and left the bedroom with a sharp slam of the door, that made even Dennis flinch. He heard the front door close with a bang a few moments later. He got to his feet quickly and ran outside to find the apartment completely empty. He found a note, however, and sighed with a bit of relief. 

_Going for a walk, be back soon. -- H_

He did a double take at the signed end and found that Tom referred to himself as Hanson. Booker knew he did something wrong but didn't understand what it was, until he sat down and went over the past events.

He knew it was nothing before the actual act that sent Tom fleeing from his bed so he went over what happened there. He pounced on the young man and hovered above him but he had done that before so that was out. He started kissing his neck, but he did that the night before. He talked to Tom and laughed against his skin, but he did that before too so nothing made sense. 

He remembered Hanson thrashing under him and shuddered at the memory. It was like he was trying to get away from something, or someone. A person only does that when they feel restrained which Tom..

" _DAMMIT!_ " Booker shouted at himself. He had done nearly the same thing the first man had done to Tom and didn't think not to do that. He sighed frustrated at himself and finally stopped bullshitting his head. The older man's first thought was to get Hanson his needed help and the first thing he _actually did_  was try to seduce him. His task to even improve Tom's self esteem didn't make up for it. He had to make things right. 

He looked back at the note and thought that Tom would calm himself and come back soon, Dennis would then apologize and keep his distance -- even if it hurt. With this alone time, he also knew he had to take advantage. He looked around for the house phone, took a deep breath, dialed the number and waited for an answer. 

"Hey, I'm glad I caught you. Look, there's something I have to tell you." Dennis said.

A muffled voice answered with a yawn, "What is it, Booker?"

Dennis bit his lip nervously, unsure how to word it. He hadn't thought about it that far and struggled to speak,  "Well.. um, I.."

"Spit it out." The voice whined.

Dennis sputtered out his response without thinking, "When I when to see Tom, we had a fight and when I came back he was gone with a note saying not to find him and --"

"Whoa, what? Tom's gone?! Dennis, slow down --"

"And then I had a feeling I knew where he was so I went to the Chapel, took two weeks off and went on the streets looking for him --"

"What?! Why would you go to the _streets_? What's going on?"

"And I found him in this burning building with no suspects inside --"

"WHAT? A _BURNING BUILDING_? NO _SUSPECTS_? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" The voice boomed.

"I took him to the hospital and they ran exams and --"

" _Hospital_? That's it. I'm on my way!"

"No, no! Don't, I don't know if that's such a good idea!" Dennis screamed into the phone but he was already hearing mad dashing.

"I'll see in ten minutes." The voice came back quick and hanging up before Booker could yell, "No, Doug!" But it was too late. Penhall was on his way and Dennis didn't know if that was wise. 

Tom didn't know he just accidentally slipped most of his trauma out to his best friend when he originally intended to just get Doug to run information on the men. He didn't know Hanson or Penhall would react to the prolonged visit. Now, Doug was on his way and Tom could be back any second, and Dennis was terrified at what would happen next.


	32. Ouch

Dennis paced anxiously, his fingers plucking at his lips and his whole body feeling like one big sweat. 

" _Fucking damn_ _it!"_  He screamed. The suspense was killing him and the questions in his head were getting louder. What would Tom say when Doug arrived? When he learned that his friend knew? Would he be angry at Dennis? He would be right to be, Booker spilled out his secrets without so much as a _can I_ _?_

But how would Doug react? Dennis went over to his see Tom and then everything went south. It was Booker that saw Hanson last. Dennis shook his head in frustration, _Doug's gonna kill me, Doug's gonna kill me_. Then he remembered how Tommy would see this. _He's_  gonna kill me, _he's_  gonna kill me. Not to mention what had just happened between the two, Booker fell to the ground where he stood and buried his face in his hands. 

A soft thudding on the door drew Dennis from his chiding. He uneasily got to his feet, his knees feeling wobbly as he head to the front door. His right palm lied heavily on the wall beside the entrance, Dennis felt a deep fear choking his heart. But he knew he couldn't just wait there all day, so he took a deep breath and opened the door with his stomach to the ground and heart in his throat. 

He gasped loudly at the sight of the younger man, smiling a shy little grin. 

"I forgot a key." He said. Booker was so warped by his arrival that he didn't say a word, just moved to the side to let Hanson walk timidly in. He closed the door and turned to see Tom rubbing his lips with two fingers. 

He couldn't stand the silence and time was running out, "Tommy I --"

But Hanson also had some words to get out, "Don't, I've been thinking --"

"Wait listen, I'm sorry and I have to tell you some --"

"Dennis, don't. I thought about what happened and --"

"I was so fucking stupid, but I have to say --"

"I said _DON'T_ , Dennis!" Tom shouted sharply, "Don't apologize, I was wrong, okay?" he went on, "I thought I was better but I was wrong. After the rape kit," He choked on the word that he feared, "I thought I was fine. But I'm not," He looked up into Booker's apologetic eyes, "I need help."

Dennis moved closer to Tom and darted between the pitiful brown rivers, " _I_ need help, Dennis. I have to get better. And I need you to understand that."

"Of course I understand Tommy," Booker said, raising his hands to place on Tom's cheeks, "I'll be there to help you. Whatever that means."

Hanson took a step back and let the warm hands fall, he crossed his arms and with a firm face said, "Then we can't be together." Tom said with tearful eyes. It hurt him even more to say it than he thought, but it had to be done. _God_ , he thought,  _just why did it have to feel so wrong?_

"What?" Dennis asked in a shaky voice, completely taken back, "Wha-- what do you mean?"

"I need to get better and..." Tom said, turning away as a tear slipped. His forefinger going to gently swipe away the one drop, "I can't do that if I continue this.. _relationship_  with you."

He heard Booker gasp and mumble a, "I can't believe this." Tom turned to see the disbelieving expression and tried to reach out but Dennis stopped him, "Alright Tom," he said, "You're right. We won't do anything again. It'll be strictly business. I promised I'd help you get better and I won't go back on it now."

"It doesn't mean I don't love --" Tom started to whisper. 

"Just, don't" Booker said, walking quietly away, "I keep my promises even if you don't. Just stick to your side and I'll stay to mine." He spoke morose.

Hanson walked over to the kitchen where Dennis was standing with an open beer and unreadable face. It sent chills down Tom's spine, the entire look reminding him of a past Booker that he didn't understand. He questioned his decision but realized he couldn't go back on it now. He made his bed and he would have to lie in it.

"What was that you wanted to tell me?" He asked softly at a good distance from the older man. Dennis didn't react in any way and just took another swing of his beer.

"Doug's on his way." he answered, leaning on the nearby counter and swiping his finger around the top ring of his drink, "He knows, well, sort of. Not any details or what actually happened, so be prepared. You need him to help get these guys." He said plainly. 

Hanson stood there with a confused look but nodded it away, "Thanks." He replied in a raspy voice. 

Dennis walked towards Tom and passed him without so much of a graze, bringing his beer back to his lips, he muttered, "Sure." Tom watched as Booker strode brooding towards the couch, slapping himself down and mindlessly drinking in his thoughts.

The younger man watched him regretfully until a quick rasp on the door snapped his head away, looked back at Dennis who set down his drink and started to get up to answer the door.Tom silently stepped out of view but watched intently from around the corner.

Completely droned out, Booker swung the door open and said lazily, "Hey Doug, How's it go --" A rock hard fist came crashing into his unprotected nose and sent blood running down his face, "What _the fuck_ , Penhall?!" He shouted at the heavier man who shoved passed him and turned to face Booker again.

"Oh no, what the _fuck_  is wrong with you, Booker?" Doug jabbed a finger in Dennis' chest while the dark haired man held his hands to his injured nose, "I told you what happened to him," With every statement, Doug pushed another finger to Booker's chest, "I assume you went to go see him. And now I find out Tom's gone?! After you were the last person to see him? How do you lose a fucking person, Dennis?" He yelled harshly. 

Booker wiped his nose with the back of his hand and sniffed painfully, "What happened to being my best buddy, Doug?" Dennis could feel his venom returning to his body, and suddenly felt like the Bastard known as Booker.

"Its not a fucking joke, man!" Penhall screamed his arms flying everywhere , "What the fuck is going on? I went over to your place and you weren't there. This was the only place I could think of and here you are. What the hell do you think you're doing here, anyway?!"

"Calm down for fuck _sakes_ , Penhall. He's --"

Then finally, Tom walked out and stumbled forward with a quiet, "Hi, Doug." His best friend turned at the sound and exclaimed, his entire mood changed in an instant, "Tommy!" He reached out and pulled the young man into an embrace, but Tom didn't return it. Doug didn't seem to notice, but Dennis did. The now different man walked around the two's one-sided greeting, clutching his nose, "Thanks for coming in, Hanson. Really changed the mood of the party."

At the sound of his last name, Tom looked in Booker's direction but the older man just walked into the kitchen without a second glance.

Doug pulled back with a wide set grin, "Are you okay? What happened?" The younger man didn't know how to answer, realizing that he felt somehow unconnected to discuss such intimate details. He stuttered over his words but felt some relief when Dennis walked out and passed them with a bunch of bloody tissues over his face, "Cop a squat, Doug. Its a long story."

Doug scowled at the man he didn't feel he trusted so much anymore but Tom nodded along with the older man, "That's a good idea. But um, there's one thing I'm going to need.." Doug nodded fiercely, "Yeah, sure, sure!"

Tom smiled uneasily and turned away to just catch Booker who was trying to slide away, "Dennis." The older man turned with an expressionless face, "Will you help me?" His voice echoed like a soft plea. And for a split second, Tom saw the love in Booker's eyes and found that it was still there.

He smiled warmly at the face that shrugged, "Sure," Dennis said, breathing into a small grin, "Tom." Because no matter how much  _Booker_ came back, Dennis still loved Tom Hanson. 


	33. Change of Heart

The three men moved towards the living room area. Doug plopped down in one corner while Tom curled himself up in the other. Dennis trailed behind when he realized he could sit on the floor next to the coffee table, he could sit in the arm chair that was next to _Penhall_  or he could just squish in between the little space the two men had between them. His face formed a scowl at the obvious move on Doug's part but it quickly faded when he saw the concern on the other man's face.

"Tell me what's going on, Tommy, I'm goin' a little nuts here." He chuckled nervously. Dennis decided to just stand opposite them and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, and his face passive.

"I don't really know how to start," Tom laughed dryly. Booker's face softened a bit at the smaller man's hesitation. He couldn't look at Tom as a lover and he couldn't look at him as a friend. Both were, somehow, equally painful. He decided that Hanson was a roommate and an ex co-worker he promised to help. Even though the living arrangements seemed a little unbearable, Dennis knew it would have to suffice until Tom was well enough to be on his own. What Booker didn't let on to the younger man that another factor in Dennis' permanent stay, was to protected Tom in case the men came back. 

Although, it still set the older man's stomach into one huge knot. He vowed to help the former officer and he kept it.

The other did not keep his own side of the bargain however, when he promised he wouldn't break Booker's heart. Dennis swallowed a sigh at the sight of Tom, lips pursed in concentration and cheeks flushed in attention, making his groin stir with longing. He quickly pushed the thoughts out as he realized that Tommy was a walking heartbreaker, and to have him promise otherwise was foolish on Dennis' part.

"Why don't you start after I left?" The dark haired man suggested. Doug cocked his head to him, not angrily, with fierce confusion, "We got into a fight, I stormed out, he was here alone." Dennis explained, "Tom?" 

They both turned back to Hanson who was rubbing his bottom lip with his finger, his eyes all twisted in memory, "Yeah, yeah.. Um.. Well, the guy, um. Doug, you remember the guy from the bar right?"

Doug nodded and Tom went on, "Well it was him. He said some stuff to me and he said I'd be better off with him, someplace else. So I went with him. Long story short," Hanson cleared his throat, "I was the.. um, toy for his drug dealing gang.. last time I was there, I mouthed off to him and he didn't like that so... we got into a scuffle,"

He paused to remember but it came back with a slap, "I was on the ground and they set the place, where we all stayed, on fire.. and next thing I know I'm in the hospital and He's," Hanson nodded towards Dennis whose eyes were downcast, "at my bedside." Tom finished.

Doug's face was completely unreadable and the young man waited anxiously for his response. It didn't hurt too much to talk about it now, after it was his second telling, so he couldn't remember how incredibly cracked it sounded. 

"I don't really have names or anything but I know we'll catch --" He spoke when Penhall abruptly started to make his way for the door. Booker was surprised by it too and slowly undid his arms and turned to watch the officer get closer when Tom called out, "Where are you going? _Doug_?"

Hanson caught up with him fast and put a hand on his shoulder when Penhall turned around snappishly, "Why would you go with him, Tom?" the younger man took a step back at the words, "I mean, he raped you before and you just _willingly went_  with him because he whispered a few sweet things in your ear?"

Hanson turned defensive, "Its not like that, you don't know --"

"Oh I know," Doug cut off, "You didn't even think about what he would do, even though you _know_  what he's capable of. You didn't think! You were being stupid. I mean, what the fuck, Tom?" His voice level started getting louder.

So did Tom's, "Oh yeah? Think you know everything now, huh, Penhall? Then answer me this: Where the fuck were _you_  when I was gone?"

Booker started to move closer, without being detected, in case the argument turned physical. The usually lighthearted officer getting far too upset for his liking, "I didn't even know you were gone! _He_ ," He pointed a finger in Booker's direction just as the older man had stopped moving and threw his palms up in innocence, "didn't tell me shit. How was I supposed to --"

"Oh no," Tom said, sliding his frame to somewhat hide the darker haired officer, "Don't blame him! You knew what happened the first time and you got out of here so fast, I thought there'd be skid marks on my floor." Hanson nodded protectively and now realizing, "You didn't come back once, because if you did you would've known I was gone and you would've done something!"

Doug did a double take and boomed with annoyance, "I know what happened the first time but I didn't think I'd have to be prepared for _next time_! Tom Hanson wouldn't have gone with that psychopath if --"

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm not Tom Hanson." The younger man retorted, finally silencing the entire room.

"I should go." Doug mumbled, but didn't move until Tom spoke. He knew he was wrong and partially at fault, he hoped the smaller man would forgive him in an instant.

"That sounds like a good idea." Tom said quietly. Penhall's mouth fell a bit at the emotionless voice but didn't say a word. He finished the last of the distance to the door and showed himself out.

Dennis was a few inched from Tom, and didn't have a thought of what to say to the turned back of the young man in front of him. Luckily he didn't have to as Hanson faced him with tearful eyes and a weary smile, "I'm tired. I'm going to bed." He made his way to the bedroom when Booker called out.

"Its only four."

Tom turned to see the unmoving man looking at him. He gave a weak grin, "Then nap." He half expected Dennis to say something but the older man merely shrugged and walked into the kitchen. Hanson went along inside the comfort of his room and collapsed on his bed with a heart full of sobs. 

Doug _blamed_  him for what happened. His best friend thought he was _stupid_. That he didn't think. And the old _Tom Hanson_  would _never_ do such a thing. The words felt like a packed lifetime of distance between the younger man and the older officer. Doug had no idea what he had gone through, Tom saved him the brutality of it all whereas he didn't with Dennis. The thoughts of the taller, stronger man flooded Hanson's mind and the tears began to subside. Booker had been so perfect to him compared to how his _best friend_  had reacted. Dennis even wanted Tom to stop because he could feel the hurt it caused the younger man. Dennis was caring, kind, and genuinely sweet to Tom. He made the younger man forget the horrid things and filled him with a light so powerful, that the smaller man really believed he was getting better.

At the thought of Booker's generosity, the young man had a yearning in his lower body and could feel a swelling occur at the memory of Dennis with his full lips wrapped around Tom's erect cock. A slight heated expansion is the former officer's stomach was enough for the man to quickly undo his jeans and find his now fully sized organ in his hand.

With his eyes shut and head thrown back, he began to stroke himself vigorously with every flashing picture he had of the older man. He quenched his moans with his fist, that locked clenched in his mouth but soon they grew harder and harder to contain.

More than anything, Tom didn't want to think or feel or remember Doug and his stupid judging face. He wanted Dennis and his compassion. He worked and pumped his right fist aggressively until he grew closer and closer to reaching his peak. He bit down solidly on his left fist that he could taste blood between his teeth as his climax came hard and he managed to keep himself undetected. He wanted to come with the older man's name on his tongue but he knew he was just being the biggest asshole on the planet.

Instead of a calm wave coming over him afterward, a depressing sadness washed him out. He turned furiously on his side and let the tears slide down his cheeks. He wanted Dennis so bad and he couldn't have him because he was all fucked up. And when he thought he was being responsible, he was really just torturing himself. He didn't even care about getting help as fast anymore. He didn't want to feel anything anymore.

Not anger at Doug for not understanding. Not desire for Dennis. Not self loathing at himself for screwing things up, time and time again. He just didn't want to feel, wanted to go numb and waste away. As he fell into an sob induced slumber, he halfheartedly wished that he burned to death in the building that night. 


	34. Phone calls and Contradictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this ANY good?

Dennis stayed in the kitchen until he heard the bedroom door softly shut behind the quiet young man. He stood in the wake of his thoughts and concern. Why the _hell_  did Penhall react that way? It was definitely unexpected, even leaving Booker feeling a little shaken up. He thought Doug would come in, say a few _I'm sorry Tommy's_ , and all would be well. But far from it, the man came in a rage and left at the end of another. Booker wanted to say he felt angry at the man for saying such cruel things to Tom.

He called the young man stupid, said he didn't think, questioned his identity. It was chaos and though Booker felt he should have stepped in, that particular war was not in his battlezone. But he understood or at least he tried to let himself believe he did. It was absolute destruction and inhumane torture that Hanson went through and to hear it, even stripped of its raw details, was still off putting. That didn't give Doug any reason to react so aggressively towards his friend though. Some things should have been left unsaid.

After about 45 minutes, Dennis remembered Tom had went off to _nap_  and decided to check up on him. The older man stealthy creaked towards the bedroom, opened the door and only found a curled up Tommy, passed out and breathing. He smiled small at the sight and gently pulled his head out of the doorway and quietly shut the door. He was trying so hard to not feel the way he did about Tom, but the man was krypton to Dennis. It wasn't just attraction and lust, though it did play a factor, it was also the warmth and love that rumbled through Booker with a sense of belonging. 

 _I need a drink_ , he thought and made his way back to the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of whiskey. Weird, he thought, that Tom had all these unopened drinks in his fridge and cabinets. But Dennis didn't care to ponder further, Hanson was a popular guy before all this and probably had tons of get togethers at his home. Booker sighed at the thought and realized that none of the younger man's friends had called or shown up to reach him. Not even to just hang out or see how he was after abruptly and uncharacteristically taking time off. It was like Tom fell off the Earth and they already said their goodbyes.

The older man put down his fully drank glass and sucked roughly through his teeth at the strong burn. Tom didn't have a friend in the world. But he had Dennis, whatever he may be, and he would stick by the smaller man through it all. Even if the other's didn't. He smiled to himself at the sound of his determination but then he remembered that someone _did_  try to help Tom.

Hurriedly but silently, he found the phone and dialed Penhall's number. At the reoccurring rings, he checked the clock and realized it was 5:15 and Doug _had_  to be home. On the third ring, a tired unmotivated voice spoke.

"Penhall."

"Doug!" Dennis exclaimed a little too enthusiastically and cleared his throat to a more suitable tone, "Glad I got you. I need a --"

"Whoa, Booker? That you?" Doug's mood changed rapidly when he realized it was the older man and he became animated and remorseful, "Hey, look, I'm really sorry about what happened. I shouldn't have hit you, you were just trying to help Tom. And Tommy, _God_ , tell him I'm so fucking sorry for being such a prick. I didn't mean to get all, preacher on him or whatever. I was just shocked. Don't let him hate me forever, okay, Dennis?"

Booker had to clear the discomfort in his throat at the promise Doug wanted him to make. But he couldn't deny that he felt it was right to accept it. Tom needed all the help he could get and Dennis knew Doug had good intentions. He sighed, "Don't worry about it. I don't think he's too angry, he just got a little hot headed like you, that's all."

A silence passed them both until Doug apologized again, except this time quite shyly, "I'm sorry I broke your nose." 

Dennis chuckled at the obvious embarrassment in Penhall's voice, "You didn't break anything. Just bloodied it up. Forget about it."

Doug cleared his throat and Booker got the feeling he wanted to say something, just couldn't word it out yet, "Doug.. if you have something to say, you better say it 'cause I've got a few more calls to make --"

At this, Doug jumped, "To who? About what? For Tom?"

Booker had to pull the receiver away from his ear to save himself from the piercing pitched questions, "Yes, if you must know," he answered agitated at constantly being caught off, "For Tom. By the way, is that a thing of yours? You and him? Do you always interrupt people when they're talking? Because I gotta tell you, its not charming. Anyway, I need your help. That is if what happened to Tom doesn't freak you out and send you running for the hills." Dennis said with a sharp defensiveness. 

Doug heard it and even if he wasn't alright with the fact and felt maybe it should have been him, he had not been there for Tom and only Dennis was in his good graces. And if this was the closest thing he could get to help Hanson, He'd do it, "Yeah man, whatever you need, lay it on me."

Dennis smiled at the brotherly devotion Penhall had for his partner. He quietly and swiftly went through every detail of Tom's rapes that could help Doug track down the suspects, skipping over the brutal and unnecessary. The other man wrote it down and read it back to make sure it was all correct, they also agreed not a word would be spoken to the Captain. That was Tom's decision and neither men would take it away from him. And that Tom would not know that Doug was helping because Hanson was well known to be stubborn, and wouldn't allow help from Penhall or accept Dennis' if he knew the man who yelled at him was involved. Booker was in the process of saying goodbye and telling Doug that _he_ would call _him_ , because Hanson may still be a little sour, when Penhall got very somber.

"They really did a number on him, huh?"

Dennis whispered sadly, "Yeah.."

"We're gonna get these bastards. Don't you worry, I'm gonna find them and they'll pay for what they did to Tommy."

The dark haired man smiled happily at the thought of Justice being restored, "Yeah." After their exchange, both men hung up and Dennis went on to his next mission: Therapy. 

He had to call through work to get the correct number for a therapist who wouldn't know what division Tom was in and gave him a rundown of what had happened. They scheduled a first meeting in a few days and if all went well, they'd take the next step. Dennis checked the clock and found that it was 6:30, as soon as he read it his stomach grumbled. He picked back up the phone again, his fingers growing weary of all the dialing, and phoned a close Chinese place for a delivery. 

It showed at 6:45, he payed the bill and set up the food in the living room all nice and pretty. It occurred to him that he was running out of ready cash and time, he'd have to take out more money from the bank or get back to work. The latter being the most obvious due to timing. He was a week in of his little break and now he had to get back to reality. As he sat on the couch after setting up dinner, he sighed at the talk he and Tom were doomed to have. 

They were doing just fine with so much focus on the situation at hand but now pressing real life problems were thrown into the mix. Ultimately, Tom would need to get well enough fast enough to come forward with his rapes and Dennis would have to work continuously hard with Doug to find the men. Things were about to change. They almost seemed stable now from what was about to come.

It was 7:10 and Booker decided it was time to go wake up Tom. He steadily moved towards the door and entered undiscovered. He crept around the curled up figure, that faced away from the door, and crouched down to his eye level when he finally reached him. The young man looked exhausted and tortured, it broke Dennis' heart to think that even in dream -- Tom did not look or feel relaxed.

He raised a hand to nudge the smaller man awake but froze under where he should poke him. He didn't want to shake his shoulder and force him an uneasy awakening. But he couldn't brush his hair back lightly with his fingertips because that was a romantic gesture. His palm moved indecisively and slowly between the man's face and arm, Booker's face morphed in concentration and mortification. 

He didn't even realize Tom had awoken at the feeling of being watched and now blinked humorous eyes, "Are you cleansing my aurora?"

Dennis flinched at the sudden voice and muttered embarrassingly, "I was trying to figure out how to wake you up."

Hanson didn't seem unfazed and just replied, "Now you don't have to."

Booker forced a pleasant grin and stood up with a wave of his hand, "Come on, time for dinner. We need to talk, too." He started to make his way to the door when a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. 

"Could you.. would you stay with me for a second? Just lie down with me for a while?" Tom's eyes shined with misery and Dennis knew he was pleading even if his tone didn't say so.

"I don't know, Tom.."

"I know what I said before but I just, I need a little.." Hanson struggled for the right word, pursing his lips out in thought. It took all his will power for Dennis not to bend down and press his own to the inviting pair, "Comfort. How about this," Tom suggested helpfully, "You just lay on that side and I lay on this side. No contact."

When the older man didn't respond and looked over at the bed with a questioning look, Tom pulled gently on his arm, "Please, Dennis? You're all I got." His eyes poured honesty from their lids, "I know I was a real jerk before.. when I said all that stuff.. so," His hold loosened a bit, "its fine if you don't want to. I contradict you too much, anyway." The young man slipped his grip away and let Booker's wrist swing. His voice a mixture of pity and self hatred. 

Dennis could here it and with a soft nonchalant sigh, he went around the bed and crawled into the other side. All while the small man watched in amazement and gratitude, "What's up, Tommy?" He asked casually with a friendly smile.

The casual ring told Tom that it was okay and moved to lay on his back, careful not to touch the other man. He breathed quietly, unsure how to say what he was going to say.

"I.. I don't," He tried. Dennis watched concerned at the twist of conflict on the smaller man's face, "I don't know if I can do this."

Dennis turned on his side and propped his hand up to support his head, "What can't you do?"

Tom stared directly at the ceiling with his hands picking at the fabric of his shirt, "Anything." He whispered truthfully, "I can't _feel_ , Dennis. I-I don't know how I feel about anything. With the rapes and the beatings and Doug and you." He turned to Booker with tears in his eyes, "I just want to be good again."

The older man bit his lip harshly, tasting the metallic blood on his tongue. He wanted to wrap the smaller man in his arms but he couldn't. There were boundaries. There were rules. There were lines. And Dennis was just torn down the middle.

"You will be." He whispered promising, "Because.. I've set up an appointment for you with a therapist." Booker screwed his eyes shut, waiting to be barked at but only felt prodding fingers smooth out the tension. He opened his eyes to see Tom with a strange look on his face. 

"Okay, I'll go.." He said, pulling his hand back. Understanding the situation and his need to get better was clear to Tom. 

But he felt himself slowly slipping into a numbness that he knew would devour him in darkness if he let it. And looking at the dashing dark haired man felt like the sun that could protect him from it. But Tom had banished him and now had to deal with all his wrongdoing. But still, looking at Dennis, he thought maybe he he was more. Maybe he wasn't the biggest star, maybe he was a whole galaxy of them.

"I don't want to lose you," Booker shook his head and tried to deny this but Tom stopped him, "I feel like I'm being.. sucked in, you know?" Dennis nodded, unsure of where this conversation was going, "And I know its wrong to toss you back and forth on this," He chuckled bitterly, "fucking rollercoaster. But.." He said looking deep into Booker's dark oaky eyes, "But I really think you're the one to help pull me out. Maybe we shouldn't be together together but I don't want us to be nothing, either."

Dennis took a deep breath at the words and saw sureness in Tom's autumn colored eyes. He knew Hanson was just trying to survive and cling onto anything to help dull his pain. But he knew that once he received therapy he would think more clearly. And if the only way to get him to go to therapy was to just, be _something_.. Well, maybe it was worth it. Although Dennis would keep his heart in check, there was that strong possibility that Tom could come out with a fixed state and change of mind.

"Whatever you want, Tommy." Dennis mumbled softly to the younger man who smiled with disbelief and pounced on him for an embrace. Booker held him tightly, thinking that Hanson needed help more than ever. 

His emotions were changing rapidly and becoming more and more demanding. Booker blinked away the tears as he knew Tom would soon step into a different kind of state soon, the kind of state that was destructive and aggressive. 


	35. Can you hear me, Major Tom?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit high school English esque but I think the lack of conversation represents what's happening with the men and their slightly crumbling relationship. 
> 
> Do I get an A?

A few days later and Dennis found himself in a strange, painful rhythm. In the morning, he went to the bank and bought enough food to keep both men fed for a good amount of time. He came home before Tom would wake up, usually catching up after another hellish nightmare that seemed to be getting worse and worse, and made the smaller man a decent breakfast. Always in the middle of finishing up, Booker would watch Tom pad out silently, with his hair standing in every corner, and head into the bathroom. Soon a ray of water would melt into the atmosphere and Dennis would finish preparing breakfast for the two. Tom would come out, refreshed and very _happy_ , and sit with a more toned down Booker and they would avoid talking about the obvious. 

Booker had to get back to work and Tom's appointment was arriving, the two would have to part ways for a lengthy time and be completely at ease about it. Dennis would eye Tom from his coffee rim and watch how quickly the younger man would gain back his slim yet healthy figure back. He would watch the phony grin trickle over Hanson's features and knew that it was a facade, but acted as if he believed it for his partner's sake. But the worse was how distant and quiet Tom grew when the appointment came closer and closer to their frontal view. 

When the day did strike, Dennis had went out earlier in the week to make sure there were eggs and bacon already in the fridge. He had showered himself and gotten dressed in his work clothes when Tom came out. His shirt was hanging off his body and his face was twisted in a hardened scowl. He looked up and down at Dennis, who gave a polite smile and a wave of his spatula, and his expression just clenched tighter until he slammed himself into the bathroom. 

Confused by the negativity, the older man's eyebrows pushed together as he slid two freshly made omelets into nearby plates. He didn't hear the shower but a muffled like croak that echoed in the acoustics of the bathroom. After he set the round plates down, he heard a stifled shriek. 

Alarmed he started to move hesitantly towards the door, until another shriek sounded even more distressed, picking up speed he bolted through the door. It was locked, as assumed, so naturally the hinges gave way a bit and Dennis was allowed entry. 

"Not again, Tommy." He breathed on an air of disappointment. He moved towards the younger man, dropped to his knees, and tried to pry the man's hands away from his long hair and damaged stomach.

"NOO," the man wailed in protest as Booker successfully released his grip and pulled him into a tight embrace, so his hands couldn't reach out and harm himself. Dennis felt so weary of the pain that he believed he was numb at this point, just dealing with Tom's behavior the way he did with his mom. Kind of like the levels of grief. 

Denial was first. And Tom had showed early signs of it. He wouldn't talk about the arrival of his new life in therapy. He wouldn't discuss the future. He wouldn't even speak with Booker unless it was absolutely dire. Yet somehow he managed to always keep a casual light between them, like he didn't know that Dennis knew exactly what he was doing. The sleeping, actually just sleeping, together were merged with bear hug like holds or intertwined hands that would be separated after another night terror. Dreams that Hanson would forget soon after waking up and change the topic if the older man ever brought it up.

Booker did that a lot now, he droned off to another realm when he was home. Forgetting for a moment that Hanson was crying openly with agony and fear. But Dennis wasn't an idiot. He knew the young man was terrified to go and be evaluated and _talk_  about the hell he returned to. But they both knew it had to be done.

So if Tom had to sob on the bathroom floor every morning, then so be it. Booker would wait until he was ready, hold the man throughout his entire ordeal, then get him to his feet and watch him get ready. He would gently pull Tom's knuckles away from his growing tangles, smooth out the fists that pummel at his abdomen and dry all his teardrops. Dennis would do it everyday if it meant that Hanson would get stronger with every appointment and fear he confessed.

And he'd do it with profanity thrown at him, that now dozed into a blur or sounds, and soft eyes versus resentful eyes and a ready smile against a threatening frown.

It all became routine and Booker grew detached. He almost couldn't feel the comforting smile he gave to the young man who insisted on going in himself and meeting his therapist so Dennis wouldn't be late for his first day back at Jump Street.

Normally, he would've reached out to plant a soft kiss on Hanson's head but physical contact diminished up to this day. Anything that happened was motivated only on Tom's part, and Dennis just moved with the current. The ocean of Tom Hanson, his streams and his waves and tsunamis and waterfalls. 

He drove himself to the chapel, a sort of dull mood overcame him and he didn't feel much. That was until he stepped into a world of life and fire and stars. Officers dressed like teenagers whisked past him with eager chatter and pounds of paperwork. They shot small, plush basketballs into baskets and talked with a passion on the phone. They laughed alongside each other, pushed each other jokingly, and smiled with a genuineness that warmed Booker's heart.

Doug spotted him and called to him but Dennis was in a trance at the life that was once his. Penhall didn't catch the dreamy look in the officer's eye and ran up to pull him by his sleeve deeper into the workspace. 

Then, something happened. 

A wire connected itself into Booker and suddenly, he belonged to the crowd. Chatting with an angry, fierce voice on the phone to find leads on the men. His eyes danced happily with any turnout but quieted with concentration when he made to make sure it was all accurate. He spoke animated with Doug, about details and possibilities. Drawing up maps to locations and people he had spoken to and beaming gratefully when Penhall looked at the details with the same intensity. For the first time in a long time, Dennis just felt like Dennis. The one only in charge of himself and his actions and words. 

His mood, unknown to him, dimmed when he arrived to pick up Tom in an hour to drop him off at home. He asked the younger man how it had went but resounded in no real answers, and for once -- Booker didn't feel like pushing. He let Tom out of the car, told him he'd see in a few hours, and be back at work before anyone noticed he was gone.

He found his place back the minute he entered his haven, and worked like a stockbroker on ecstasy. He vaguely remembered his captain calling him and Penhall into his office. Doug did most of the talking as Dennis marveled at his superiors being. Disbelieving that he actually _missed_  the older gentleman. The conversation was along the lines of the two going undercover for a drug case and saying that Hanson needed a bit more time until he could explain his extremely long absence. 

After they left Doug was concerned and worried at the pressing matter of getting Tom to confess what happened so they could focus more on his case than a mere two-week one.

"I mean, what are we gonna do man? How're we supposed to do this case _and_ a whole new one? All under Fuller's nose? He's gonna be pissed when he finds out and you _know_ he will! Its better to just come clean. Do you think Tom will?" Doug's face morphed into a pained expression and his hand that held his face moved towards his hair in a gripping matter. Immediately though calmly, Dennis pulled his hand away despite Doug's confused look.

"Its ground control to Major Tom with him," Booker said in a daze, his eyes looking far too foggy and lost for his tender twenty three years, "But if he doesn't, we'll just have to without him." He and Doug nodded in silent agreement. 


	36. House of Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm proud of this one.

Returning home after a week and a half of endless working, Booker was feeling exhausted and drained. Penhall and he had piles of paperwork towering over them and couldn't start a stitch without Tom's confession or a sturdy lead. Dennis was weary and wanted nothing more than to have a drink and fall into a deep slumber. Sleeping in the same bed with the younger man grew to be awkward and slightly unpleasant. They didn't talk outside of the bedroom, as well as in, and contact was practically a miracle. Dennis had to stroke out a few in the shower just to get by with his own needs. He knew Tom was doing the same but it didn't bother him, in fact it helped him swell enough to even attempt an orgasm. He just wish he could talk to the younger man. About the case, that he was unaware of, or about them. But with therapy happening all around, Hanson had completely shut Dennis out.

The older man groaned with neck aches he developed while looking over files after files, he just needed a good night's rest where he wouldn't be bothered or pestered. Tomorrow, he decided as he turned his key into the apartment lock, he would bring up the possibility of Hanson formerly handing in a written report about the abuse he went through. Other than that decision for the next day, he was on dead mode. Emotionless, paired with droopy eyelids and a sleepy pout.

As he swung open the door, he eyed the couch he was more than likely about to pass out on. Licking his lips into a tired grin, he moved forward. But as steadily as he made his efforts, he was abruptly staggering back from flashing bright lights and a gushing red that trickled down his surprised face.

"You fucking bastard!" Hanson growled at him. Booker stood disoriented and confused by the turn of events, he drew his hand to his mouth and found warm blood _once again_  running from his nose. An untapped rage suddenly flooded the usually indifferent shell, that he wore at home frequently, Booker previously had. 

"What the _fuck_  is it with busting up noses around here?" He yelled in aggravation. 

The sharp edge made Tom flinch, Dennis had been so quiet and mysterious since he went back to Jump Street. Hardly showed the temper Hanson knew he had and partially created a phony civilized atmosphere with his secretive partner. But Hanson refused to back down because of the tone in Dennis' voice. His own anger was too firey and explosive to ignore. 

"Why are you working with Penhall on my case -- a case, I shouldn't even have?!" He demanded.

At the true meaning to his unexpected attack, Dennis paused with a stifled sigh. He wiped his nose enough for it not to bother him until he got it properly cleaned up, "Okay, okay," he tried to explain but the smaller man wasn't through just yet.

"You're a fucking traitor, Dennis!" Tom was soon in Booker's face, spitting venomous insults at him left and right, "A fucking liar. You went behind my back! And with Doug? The one guy who has to swallow his own vomit whenever he looks at me?" He questioned sadly but turned destructive right after, "You're a piece of shit, I hate you! You can't do anything right." He finished softly. The end wasn't really for Dennis and he felt awful immediately after seeing the pain in Booker's eyes, the words were meant for Tom himself.

The last bit cut deeper than anything Hanson could've said and a fury fumed in Booker's stomach soon enough, steaming out of his mouth, "I'm a traitor? A piece of shit? You hate me? _I_  can't do anything right?" He boomed with a base, and shoved Tom away from him. Fed up with the abuse he was taking and being forced into a corner, he struck back, "How 'bout you, Tommy? Let's put _you_  on the spot. Who fucking left with _and_  for a goddamn rapist? Yeah, Tom, you wanna talk? Let's talk!" He shoved Hanson again until they were in the center of the living room, only a few feet apart, "Tell me Tommy, who the fuck leaves with a _piece of shit_   _criminal_  who rips his skin off with a leather belt and then throws him to his buddies for a fuck-party?" Booker screamed.

The verbal abuse was overwhelming and erupted a deep feeling of guilt. It took over Tom's body so powerfully that, without a second thought, he charged at the older man with a hellish yell and stone hard fists. 

He landed a few good hits at Booker's abdomen and from his partner's aching groans and the discomfort look in his face, Tom would say he was doing alright. But Dennis had the upper hand once he was able to see what was going to happen before it happened and countered Tom with a few meaningful punches to the man's sides and jaw. They got a hold of each other eventually and couldn't make any kind of jabs unless they other gave in, they thrashed from side to side with pained moans and muffled snarls. Finally, when Tom lowered himself just the right amount to wail at a limitless amount on Booker's chest and stomach, Dennis popped a knee up in instinct. Hearing the _crack_  as it connected squarely with Hanson's nose, he already regretted it.

A strangled cry echoed in the home and Tom dropped to the ground and rolled onto his back. He moaned in agony, "You fucking asshole!" He screamed. Booker quickly saw that Tom would attack once he was ready so he fell to his own knees and climbed onto Hanson to straddle him immobile. Prying clenched fists over the younger man's head, Dennis caught his own heavy breath. 

"Calm down, Tom!"

He screamed in Booker's face, "Fuck you!" Hanson whisked his head rapidly, kicking his legs around with blood droplets flying from his plump lips.

"I'm trying to help you, dammit!" The older man shouted back at the other who finally stopped flipping. But now he   purred with a deep, menacing expression that Dennis had never seen. He felt sure that he was looking into the eyes of a ravenous, bloody hungry wolf.

"Hitting me is your way of helping me?" He breathed hastily in a low murmur. His taunting voice made Booker kind of nervous, because Tom wasn't Tom anymore. And Dennis had no idea who was looking back at him, "Well, looks like you and Master have a lot more in common than I thought."

Booker's eyebrow furrowed at the unknown name that rung familiar in Hanson's voice. However, he had an inkling who the younger man was talking about and was offended by the cruel words, "I'm nothing like him."

Tom was like a demon in chains, the ties being Dennis' iron hold, and he ripped at the man above him with a smirking grin and devilish eyes, "I beg to differ. You both like to lie.. and hit.. and fuck." He whispered evil, slowly raising his body to meet Booker's gaze fully, "Isn't that right, Dennis? Like to fuck me then bruise me up? S'how you get off?" The younger man mocked.

"Shut the fuck up, Tom! You're fucked up in the head. I'm nothing like those men. That's bullshit, and you know it!" Dennis screeched but the sound of his piercing voice was cut off by the force of Tom's head bashing forward and knocking the older man right on his forehead, "Fuck!" Dennis screamed, he shook his head from side to side like the pain would fade. But he knew what Hanson was trying and refused to give in, tightening his grip, "Stop fighting me, Tom! The only reason why I went behind your back with Penhall was to _find_  those bastards. We're running out of time!"

Hanson thrashed viciously but he couldn't throw the heavier man off him, "You're a liar. I hate you, I hate you." he mumbled repeatedly, wearing himself out, until after forever it seemed, he stopped moving and his words slowed, "Hate you.. hate... you.. hate.." Exhausted as well, Booker fell off him and slid to Tom's side with a deep sigh, "You don't hate me, you just," He tried to explain but couldn't gather the right information, "You don't hate me."

They breathed alongside each other, the fire and fury in them swimming off their tongues and fists. Tom spoke first.

"What am I gonna do?" Hanson asked hopelessly, he didn't know what came over him or why he acted like that and it frightened him to the bone. Booker turned to him and replied softly, "Whatever we have to."

The younger man turned to meet the officer's gaze, a glaze of misery and shame clouding his dark eyes, "I have to tell you something," Tom started, a deep knot of fear forming in his stomach, "I.. it was consensual, sometimes." Hanson confessed. 

The former officer chuckled dryly and without humor, "Before we left, before I knew you were alive. After the first rape, he came by.." Dennis mouthed no as he listened, knowing exactly where this was going, "I'm such a whore." Tom gasped in a choking sob. He brought his hands to cover his mouth, "I deserved it. All of it. I let him in, I let him do those things to me. I-I," A roar of rain overcame him and Booker felt compelled to draw the man into his arms. He felt the shakes that quivered from Hanson's chest and tried to keep his own tears from falling. Tom buried his head and hands into Booker's forefront, and Dennis could feel the blood and tears soaking into his thin shirt.

"Have you spoken with your therapist about this?"

A muffled voice answered, "We don't talk. Just sit there for an hour until you come get me."

Dennis pulled away and looked squarely into the smaller man's eye, "Why not?"

Hanson peered up with dryer eyes and croaked a simple answer, "I don't trust him."

Booker sighed in worry, he had no idea what he planned to do. Tom wasn't talking therefore he wasn't getting help and he had a lot more wounds than Dennis originally thought. Booker's case would crumble like a house of cards without Hanson's stability and healing, and his actual case he had taken for financial and normalcy reasons were all piling over him. He was walking on thin ice and any wrong move could send him to the bottom of the river.

"I'll do better." Tom said suddenly, "I promise. But.. you have to promise not to hate me when more secrets start flying out. I know it'll be difficult not to but --" he talked anxiously. 

Dennis looked back at him with serious eyes, "I could never hate you, Tommy." He promised solemnly. It was a shock to hear the vague confession but he couldn't hate Hanson. It wasn't his fault, he just needs professional help. Help he hadn't gotten after his first rape.

The moment was obvious to both men but was obnoxiously interrupted by a burst of the front door and a red-faced Doug Penhall. The men, still entangled with each other on the ground, looked up in confusion. 

"Book -- where, why are you guys on the floor?  Know what, never mind. Dennis!" He sighed relieved at the sight of the dark haired man, "We got someone." He said, unable to mask his enthusiasm. 

Booker scrambled to his feet, casting a surprised look at the beaming man. He held a hand out to lift Tom and part of his heart fluttered when he felt fingers weave between the space of his, "Are you serious?" He asked quietly, Doug's head bobbed excitedly, "Don't jerk me around, Penhall!" He jokingly warned.

"Isn't that Tommy's job?" He retorted too fast to think.

"Hey!" Hanson shouted in defense, but both men could see that he didn't really mean it. The excitement electrified through all them like a live current, Tom watched as Dennis and Doug smiled knowingly at each other. Like they had their own secret language that they alone developed. 

"Let's go!" Penhall boomed, racing out like small child on too much caffeine. Booker moved to step forward but stopped short when he found his hand still intertwined with Tom's. Hanson glanced down and tried to slip away, "Sorry.." 

But Dennis wouldn't let him, he spoke surely, "Don't be." He replied with a loving voice, that Tom smiled at because he knew it was only reserved for him, before walking out with the younger man's palm in his.


	37. Changing Views

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long. I had a performance and have been trying to get back in the swing of things after the slight stress. I hope this is enough for you to forgive me! x

They climbed into Penhall's dingy car, Booker went for the passenger seat and Tom was left with the back row. He scooted over behind Doug and was about to complain about the littered fast food remains at his feet that made his nose wrinkle, but Penhall beat him to it. 

"Sorry about the mess, Tommy." he said in an uncaring matter, his mind distracted by other heaps of rubbish, "The guy we found is named Bruce Mcstone. Been charged for manslaughter in the past and narcotics is his new business. Mean anything to you?"

Booker knew better than to turn back because his face was deeply tied in questions, Hanson would assume he was under interrogation and automatically shut down. Anything Tom wanted to say was up to Tom.

"No," he answer quickly, "Well yeah, maybe! Sort of." The others waited patiently when the young man took a deep breath, "There was a particularly.. for lack of a better word, _rough_ ," Dennis could see him wince from the corner of his eye, "man who I called.. Bruise. I think you can figure out why.."

Booker sat completely motionless with no expression on his face while Doug tightened his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles shone white, "Couldn't have been more than 250, maybe six feet. Black hair, greasy dark skin, um big guy. Yeah, big guy." Hanson recalled in an almost trance like rhythm. 

Doug cleared his throat when a pause flooded the car, "Yeah, well while he matches the description, you still gotta ID the prick."

"I know."

The curly haired man cut off Hanson's short answer, "Good." His voice suddenly had a cold edge to it that made Tom squirm internally, "'Cause he's been charged with physical and sexual assault before too and he hasn't been persecuted for those crimes."

"Why not?" Booker jumped in.

A moment of silence passed and both Tom and Dennis could feel the sadness that in Doug's words, "They never make it to trial." He didn't have to specify who they was, they all just knew. And a dagger ripped through each of their hearts.

"That all?" Dennis asked after a while.

The heftier man shook his head, "He hasn't gotten in trouble lately so the officer assigned to all his cases think he must've went underground."

Tom moved forward at the new information, "We kind of figured, he's not working alone. How'd they find them and get him in custody?"

"Parking ticket." Doug replied with a scoff, "Reckless driving in his goddamn Ferrari."

"Just him, no others?" Dennis interrupted again.

"He's not talking. Without any witnesses for his previous crimes -- they got nothing."

Hanson turned somberly to the window, watching all the life and colors he once understood mesh into one big blurred motion. He murmured quietly, "They got me."

The men upfront didn't have to look at each other to know what they were thinking. They stayed silent and faced the road but Dennis eyed his lover in the rear view mirror. His heart cringing like a flimsy piece of paper, the young man let one lone tear slip down his beautiful face. He subtly adjusted his eyes, knowing why Tom said exactly what he said. 

Hanson had all the traits of a hero. He was noble, honest, true, and had a good heart. All the characteristics that made Booker fall inevitably in love with him. But he was also damaged, Dennis thought with a deep empathy, and conflicted. Tom would throw himself into the flames to save anyone else or believe rightly, that he had to burn for those who were turned to ash. And just like a hero, he wouldn't back down from doing what was right -- even if every fiber in him was pleading to do just that. 

Tommy was _not_  going under the bus to get justice for himself. He was throwing himself head first into the collision for those who couldn't fight. And Dennis couldn't say if that was a good or bad thing. 

Eventually, they pulled into an unfamiliar precinct where McStone was being held. Having ties from Intelligence, Doug was able to secretly get information on Bruce's whereabouts without his superior or anyone at Jump Street knowing. Still, they had to go through the whole process of proving they were, in fact, police officers. _Kiddie cops look too much like kids_ , they said. Real charming use of the word Doug would always mumble, the department was just worried about some juveniles rummaging through their records. 

Tom was the last to go. Having removed his badge and weapon, he was standing over a vacant desk with his limbs stretched out a foot apart. He waited impatiently to get frisked and patted but was soon taken from the real world. He was distant and taken by the bubbling surroundings that he hadn't been around in weeks, even months. Everyone was quick paced, with sharp tones and laughing mouths. Hanson curved inward to himself as he thought about how they were laughing at him. 

He had only been around Penhall and Booker, and still then it was mostly Dennis. He hadn't been to work in so long, he feared he'd forget how to be a cop. As he watched the reflection on his badge shimmer in the honey light, he wondered why he even had the right to hold such an honorable thing. 

Unexpectedly, a callous hand groped over his left butt cheek and when he rushed out of his thoughts to protest, another firm hand held his right wrist in place on the desk he leaned over. 

"Ah ah ah, pretty boy." A menacing voice warned causally. Hanson froze under the tone he knew too well and though he didn't recognize it, it still came from the same species of leech.

"Get your fucking hands off me." Tom responded in a panicky voice the unknown officer heard. A hollow chuckle sounded from behind as the hand moved over his backside, gripping and rubbing than dancing towards the front by nibble fingers. A hot sweat ran down Tom's face and neck, he could feel the heat radiating off himself. He looked up, dashing his eyes left and right for someone to notice. But they were piled up with paperwork, the big baseball game, and clueless citizens. He found Doug and Dennis, standing quietly by the coffee machine, in deep conversation. 

Tom wanted to scream across the room for his lover to help him but his voice ran dry and wouldn't stutter its way out. He pleaded mentally for Dennis to look over at him just once, because then he would see the sheer fear in Tom's eyes.

And once he caught on, the young man knew without a doubt that his partner would rip the sickening man off of him. But the older man was unaware, tears filled Tom's eyes at the sexual assault that seemed always bound to find and capture him.

The prodding hands moves towards his waist, leaving behind Tom's quivering wrists, to tighten and smooth over in an intimate way. Although the man didn't make an actual move towards the young man's flaccid cock, it was almost as if the officer was teasing him. 

Shutting his eyes into blackness, Tom thought that if he could relax himself and breathe easier, he could manage to yelp out to Booker. Sadly, the disgusting man took it as encouragement and walked his fingers boldly to almost set on Hanson's groin, "I knew you liked that," He mumbled in a husky, amusing voice, "You little whore."

A burst of exploded wrath filled Tom's abdomen and came sputtering out into every other part of his anatomy. The insulting name erupted a strong sense of being Hanson thought he lost, that night he went home with a strange man. The same feeling he thought he didn't need until he left with the strange man. The feeling he thought he could have but felt unworthy of it since the day he escaped death. 

He flipped around in a flash, forcefully shoving the relentless officer back -- nearly knocking him over, "I said, get your _fucking_  hands off."

Instincts jumped under Booker's skin and muscles flinched as he sensed a nearby altercation brewing. He whipped his head around just in time to see Hanson, his fists curled around the collar of an officer with a sneering look on his face. Dennis couldn't see the young man's face, but he didn't have to. His back was tense and stiff, muscles pulled together in a lock and load stance. He was close to the opposite man and his head held steady, cocked in only one direction. 

Tom was prepared to fight.

"Tommy!" Booker cried out. Hanson immediately turned to face Dennis and once he did so, the officer pushed him back. 

"Fuck off! This guys a psycho," He told Dennis, "And a liar, too. Don't believe a word he says."

"That's bullshit --" Tom breathed heavily and meant to move towards the officer but Dennis placed a gentle hand on his chest, focused entirely on the man speaking badly of his lover.

"Damn it, Tommy, you gotta learn to behave!" He phoney scolded at Hanson with a wink before turning to the officer and whisking an arm around his shoulders, "Hey, I'm sorry. He's been through a lot." The man nodded in agreement.

"Yeah! Tell me about it, pal. Guy tried to put the moves on me. I don't swing that way but he was kind of persistent."

Hanson overheard and jumped at the man, "You fucking asshole, you're the one that -- you-- you!"

Tom couldn't verbally accuse the man of anything, the man knew it and smirked, and Dennis didn't have to be told a damn thing. 

"Huh. I see." He turned back towards the man. He originally thought that the man said cruel things to Hanson, insulting or teasing him merciless. The reality was revolting and Booker made to fix it. He pulled the man closer, who smiled thinking he got away with it. Dennis grinned and whispered in a low growl, "Yeah, well.. Lay a finger on him again and I'll rip your fucking head off,  _'kay pal?"_

The officer's face stiffened under the sharpness of Booker's voice and dropped his gaze. Dennis pushed him out of his arm and walked off, replacing his shoulders with Tom's.

"Dennis, I --" Hanson started to explain.

"Not your fault." Booker mumbled, strolling distantly back to Penhall who had a questioning look but the older man just shook his head. Suddenly in the silence, Dennis felt Tom tense up and flinch. He looked down, his brows furrowed in concern when he saw the look of pure terror.

"Tommy, what is it?" He demanded. Doug looked over them but couldn't speak, just watched the two, "Talk to me baby, what's wrong?" he asked softer. Doug kind of twitched inside at the intimate nickname but neither men seemed to have a problem with it, so he tried not to either.

The young man's eyes darted from their target to eye his lover. A single word whispered from between his frozen pout, "B-bruise."

Immediately Booker and Penhall looked up and saw a man, the size of the departments door with a recently shaved head in handcuffs, walking towards the interrogation room with his head down. Dennis pulled Tom tighter to him, his heart at an even pace. He wasn't nervous or scared, just ready. Doug felt the tension.

"Don't, Dennis. Not here, not now." He warned. Another officer, middle aged and professional looking, nodded at the men to come in. Doug stepped forward and made the path first, he turned back with a small grin, "You'll get your chance." he assured the protective lover.

Penhall stepped into the room, disappearing from Booker's view. The older man faced Tom and looked deeply into his eyes, even bending just a bit to make it more even.

"You know you can't come in." 

The smaller man nodded. Dennis' mouth formed a tight line, unsure of what to say. He knew what he wanted to _do_  to the man who hurt his Tommy but now he had to be a cop, play by the rules and get Mcstone as well as the others. He would have to keep his temper down and all the information he had underwraps. 

As far as they knew, Hanson died in the fire. But looking at the younger man, looking fearful of all the people around him. The man who looked on edge because once again, a man tried to attack him. Booker's heart broke, he needed to do or give something to the young man to assure him. He had every reason to give up and blow his brains out,  Dennis thought sadly. But he could also make it, he just had to hang on a little longer.

"I promised I'd get your justice back." He murmured quietly. 

Tom wore a blank expression until he moved forward and placed his lips on his lover's in a tender kiss, "Then go get it, you stubborn bastard." The former officer chuckled softly into the face that saved him, protected him, and loved him. He knew he owed Dennis the old Tommy, the resilient strong hard-headed cop, and that was exactly what Tom would do in return.


	38. Do, Did, Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am quite proud of this one.

Booker went on ahead but before he stepped inside the hallway that would lead to the interrogation room, he turned and threw a wink his lover's way. Tom gave his signature lopsided smile and watched Dennis vanish from his eyes. He let out a small sigh and moved towards the entrance of the interrogation room and sat in one of the chairs lined up against the back wall.

He covered his face in his hands as he tried to relieve the knot in his stomach. A _pervert_ had just eyed him and nearly attacked him, in a precinct and in a cop uniform. He thanked a higher power he never thought too much of for Booker being there. Men had called him a whore and used his body as their own fuck machine. Who would believe someone like that, if Tom had the courage to rightly accuse the man? But Dennis did. The older man believed every word Tom couldn't say and fought by his side, even when Hanson didn't think it was particularly necessary. 

Hanson breathed on shallow air, wondering why the fuck did this all keep happening to him. Was he sending out some kind of signal, a sign that said _Fuck me I'm Yours_  in neon lights? Or could the sickos of the world smell it on him? The semen that he found couldn't be completely cleansed from his limbs because it had seeped into his bones. The stench of gasoline and burning wood when the men tried to dispose of him, without an ounce of dignity or pride. Or maybe it was the fact that at some point.. Tom liked it, had reactions to it, was stimulated? Maybe it did make him filthy and rotten but he couldn't truly believe that he deserved to be preyed upon.

The young man chuckled to himself, maybe that's progress. His sudden belief of self-worth. He swung his head back towards the doorway where Booker winked at him. Maybe Dennis had something to do with that. Instantaneously, the same officer who nodded at the men earlier came sputtering out breathless. 

"You better get in here." He said in astonishment. 

Hanson scattered to his feet and followed him down the hallway where he stood, pointing through the glass. Tom walked slowly up the one-way window and his eyes widened with a gasp when he saw his friend.

Pressing up the hardened criminal against the rocky wall, his face a twist of malicious threats. Mcstone looked relatively unharmed and unafraid, allowing Doug to grip his neck in a vice like hold. He only gave a teasing smile, and shrugged seemingly innocent. Tom had been through enough interrogations himself to know that the older man lost his temper with bullshit answers and tried to use violence to get a better one. But Bruise wasn't biting.

Hanson spun his head around the room and found his lover, sitting calmly in a chair opposite the altercation. His fists were clenched within each other and his jaw tightened, his eyes looked focused and vacant. Seeing one thing and one thing only. 

The young man flinched at the abrupt movement, Doug tossing the handcuffed mammoth into the chair in front of Booker. He leaned forward on the man's right side, whispering through clasped teeth.

"My bad." The officer apologized next to Tom, a beep sounded before the hallway filled with Doug's echo.

"You're going away whether you like or or not, Mcstone. We got you." Doug said carelessly, "You might as well give it up and maybe it'll help, cut yourself a deal."

The man, Tom now forced himself to see, named  _Bruce_ snorted in amusement. He looked up just as Doug walked away from him and leaned against the wall behind Dennis with his arms crossed, "Ooh a misdemeanor, go ahead lock me up and throw away the keys, boys." His voice had a raspy edge, like he was being seductive before he slits your throat. 

 _"This isn't a joke, Mcstone!"_  Doug shouted with a base. All the movement in and out of the room quieted, only soft breathing was left. Booker moved closer then spoke untroubled, "Narcotics. Assault. Murder." He stated plainly, "That's a lot of jail time, Bruce."

"You don't have me on Jack shit, pig!" Mcstone replied venomous, even going so far as to spit in Booker's face. Doug froze unsure of what to or say because of how angry Dennis can really get. But the black haired man just stood and roughly scraped his chair into the desk, walked out without a word.

It was like watching a play or a movie and Tom jumped when Dennis appeared from the doorway, a napkin rubbing the saliva off his skin. Booker was also startled.

"Jesus!" He exclaimed, silently shutting the door, "Tommy, what're you doing here? You can't be here." He tried to gesture Hanson out but the department's officer stepped out from the shadows, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Its okay. He can stay, just don't go in." He assured them both. 

Once he did so, Tom pounced with epiphany, "Tell him you have DNA!" The young man shouted in a whisper, "Tell him I wasn't burn to death, it was smoke inhalation. Firefighters got there quick and even though I was declared dead on the scene, I wasn't too badly burned and you got DNA!"

A wide look of surprise and chance sprinkles across Booker's features, he gaped in disbelief. He knew it would work and they would get Bruce to confess to the whereabouts of the others. This was it. They got him.

"Go, you idiot!" Tom shoved him back towards the interrogation room, "Get the fucker!" He encouraged with hopeful tears swelling in his lids. Booker nodded solemnly. 

He swung the door open and smirked when Penhall and Mcstone glanced up in shock. Doug's face quickly turned to grin when he caught the whiff of the old Dennis Booker, returning with a vengeance. Penhall sat straight up and breathed a hearty laugh, "Well, it was nice to finally meet you Mcstone!" Doug said, aggressively shaking the man's chained hand, "But I'm afraid I have to duck out, I leave you in the hands," He said, sprinting off in a glee behind the unmoving taller officer and clapping both hands on his broad shoulders, "Of the true psychopath of our century." He finished warmly, leaving the room with a soft thud.

"Forgot to tell you Bruce," Dennis began, "I'm Tom Hanson's lover."

Mcstone eyes kind of, shrunk under the intense glare in Booker's eye, "S-so?" He stumbled.

Dennis moved around to his side and placed a squeezing hand on the criminal's shoulder, "I get very, _very_  upset when people touch my stuff." He concluded with a sincerely cold-blooded, heartless grin.

Wild laughter bounced all around the interior of Penhall's car and they all came from the Mcquaids.

"I never thought I'd see a grown man cry so hard! And beg, too!" Doug squealed in the back seat.

Tom was in the passenger seat, holding his own gut in a pleasurable pain, "Holy shit Dennis, he sang like a goddamn canary. What the fuck did you do to him?!" 

Booker chuckled to himself, smiled smugly, " _If looks could kill_ , Tommy. That's all."

The two glanced over at each other with admiring looks but couldn't say much more because Doug shoved his head in the space between them, "Oh, oh!" Penhall continued, "But nothing beats his attempt at self-respect!" Dennis laughed as he thought to a few moments ago..

"I get very, _very_  upset when people touch my stuff."

"Well -- I didn't touch your _stuff_.. bitch." Mcstone said sullenly, turning away from Booker's uncomfortable stare. Dennis knew that, moved closer.

"Oh, but you did, Brucey! You did, and now you've got to have some consequences, don't you think?" 

The bulking man moved uneasily in his chair and cleared his throat at the man who, he could possibly rip apart but found he had no courage to. He was only filled with fear and anticipation. 

"I- I don't know what you're talking about --"

Booker slammed his palm unexpectedly into the table causing the criminal to jump violently, "Oh! But you do. See.." He started towards the chair opposite Bruce, taking joy in the man's obvious discomfort as he steered away, "You killed Tommy but not before he snitched on ya!"

Bruce's eyes expanded to the size of saucers, "W- what?"

Dennis smirked widely, "That's right, Brucey baby, we got this magical detective: DNA." 

Soon enough, terrified tears streaked down the man's face. He begged in agony when Booker expressed his deepest sorrow that he would have to send Mcstone to Rikers. The penitentiary for only the baddest criminals, where guards had no control and New Yorkers hate anyone who isn't from New York. What sealed the deal and really brought Bruce to his knees was the imagine Dennis painted in his head. Explaining how serial killers had gone in and come out with new M.O'S with all the practice they had from the inside. Mcstone freaked when he learned that rapists got the worst of it all.

Once he confessed that all the men were living a luxurious life downtowm with their head -- Bones. Tom knew him as Master and he certainly still lived up to his name. Forcing all the men to pack up business, take their profits and live a quiet existence until Hanson's disappearance and presumed dead had faded from any possible investigation. Mcstone still had no idea that Tom was still alive and figured if they had something on him, he'd get the least of the punishment. 

Booker stood with a strong gratitude and nodded towards two officers, who entered the room from ready to take the criminal back into custody. Doug closed the door that led to the hallway where he and Hanson stood.

Mcstone allowed them to pull him out of his seat but throw back in a cowardice voice, "I'm glad he's dead. He was a piece of shit whiner. You killed him," He said with veins running crazily in his pupils, "He screamed out your name and that's what marked his death certificate."

The officers who held the man arched their eyebrows in surprise and looked at each other with a shrug, "Go for it." They said with a yawn.

Dennis' lips pulled into a side simper, he balled his fists and sent it shattering forward right in the center of the bastard's face. A loud bone shattering sound followed, blood trickled from his nose and a bruise already began to form in the middle of his disgusting mask. He cried out and was dragged callously away from Dennis who stayed there for a moment, running two fingers over his knuckles. A soft knock came from the mirror across from him and he looked up, seeing himself but knowing Tom was on the other end.

Dennis could faintly remember the Hanson in his comatose state, what he said..

 _"You are not your father and you are not your past. You cannot keep killing yourself. Fight for the right things but know that sometimes that doesn't require physical damage. And most importantly, do not stop loving who you love. No matter what."_ He looked over at Tom, the wind blowing in his waves, creating ripples of brown currents. His smile wide and eyes warm, Dennis felt salty tears in his eyes and looked back to the road. 

"Yeah," Booker said, presence back in the vehicle he drove home in with his lover and new friend, "That was the best part." He agreed. 


	39. Against All Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not really a part two thing but this is quite long. The next one will take place in the future, not right after this one.  
> Assure me this doesn't completely drag and I'll love you forever?

After the men returned home, things turned very domestic and nostalgic. Mcstone was given a deal to go through the system and complete a six week course, on drivers safety, to prove there was nothing fishy going on. Once completed he would go back on the streets and to his associates, they would send Doug in as top notch dealer that Bruce found and get all the men to convince to their crimes at a big drug party extravaganza. 

In the mean time, Hanson had to secure his emotional and mental status to a stable point for the trials and questioning. But before he officially returned to therapy, he and the other two men bonded in the shared apartment of his and Booker's.

This is where everything went downhill.

Tom soon grew attached to his old friend once the tension had dwindled and there was no need for anything too heavy or serious. First Penhall and Booker took the young man out and around, giving him the feel of life and he adapted to the familiarity in quick timing. However, Dennis noticed over the short time that Tom had moved closer to Doug whenever they sat down somewhere. Tom also talked more intently and animatedly with the other gentleman as well. So Booker shouldn't have been surprised when Hanson said he was going out and stopped Dennis when he started to rise from his seat. 

_Just me and Doug tonight, I'll see you later._

Then he'd leave with a hesitant smile, jacket in hand and Dennis would be alone in the apartment wondering how everything turned so fast. He'd be mindlessly watching TV drinking a beer when Tom would come home with a dazed smile on his face and a tired yawn. Booker would help him into bed and note sadly that were was little to no alcohol on the smaller man's breath, Tom was not deluded at all in his actions or emotions. 

The older man would climb into bed and feel Tom shift away from him. Dennis would turn away as well, his eyebrows furrowed at the disconnection he had with the man lying next to him. They didn't talk or touch and sometimes wouldn't even sleep in the same room. Booker spoke with Doug, demanding to know what had occurred between him and his lover but the officer had no answers.

_Nothing Dennis, I swear. We talk about nothing, really nothing. Old cases, inside jokes. I watch his beer intake, then I drive him home and make sure he gets in okay. That's all._

It didn't make any sense to the older officer. He felt like they were thrown back to the first time they met -- Team Hanson and Penhall with a strong distaste of Booker. The few times Dennis tagged along, Tom would completely ignore him or treat him like a third wheel. One time Dennis called him Hanson, as a test, and all Tom did was answer.

When it was time for the young man to head back to the doctor, Dennis had to know what was going on before he would be shut out of his lover's life for good. He found the smaller man eating cereal in the living room, he was partially dressed and he already looked agitated. 

Dennis stood in the center of the room, rolling up his long sleeves and gazing downward at the moody man, "We're leaving soon, you should go put on your sneakers."

Tom's head snapped up and his face rolled into a hard expression, "You want to tie them, too,  _Mom?"_

Booker's temper began to flare at the attitude he felt he didn't deserve in the slightest, "Why, is it too _difficult_ for you?" He retorted suggestively. 

Hanson shot off the couch and the half empty bowl of milk and soggy flakes flew to the floor, "What's your fucking problem?" He moved towards the older man until he was glaring up with blazing eyes, "Why are you acting like such a prick?"

"Excuse me?" Booker scoffed.

"Oh cut the shit, Dennis." Tom waved his hand around in annoyance, "Stop acting all righteous and Godly."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dennis demanded.

"You stand there, like a goddamn watchdog!" Tom shouted, "All the time. Looking over my shoulder, eyeing guys who give me sideways glances. You think I don't notice but I do! You act like I can't take care of myself, like I'm some fucking orphan you have to protect at all times. I'm surprised you haven't beaten the shit out of some guy who bought me a drink!"

The words cut deep into Booker, he didn't understand why Tom was acting this way when just some days ago the younger man had kissed him in a precinct. Now he was expressing resentment for Dennis' stability and promise. 

Fury burned in Booker's eyes at the feeling of his open heart being crushed under Tom's bare feet, "Is that why you go out with Doug every night, so you can spread your fucking wings and fly?"

Tom responded with a fierce tone, "At least Doug thinks I can!"

A silence resonated between the two, the anger in their chests slowing to an even pace. Hanson looked exhausted and Booker felt it. The disconnection was killing them and so did any confrontation they tried to have. But something else, beneath the surface, was really bringing them down. 

"What's really going on, here, Tommy?" Dennis asked, moving forward to put a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder. But Hanson just shoved it off and walked back to the couch. Booker followed and sat next to him. His voice softer, "Please tell me what's happening between us," He begged, "Because I'm losing my mind thinking about it."

Tom faced him with a quiet sigh, his eyes were in anguish and his famous pout a quiver, "I got a call from my doctor a few days ago."

Confusion trickled into Dennis' eyes, "So?"

The young man sighed heavier, his gaze losing focus and finding the sticky oats and flakes on the floor, "So he thinks it'd be a good idea for.." he began fiddling with his fingers nervously, "You to sit in with us during the rest of our sessions."

Understanding filled Booker's mind, "And listen to everything that happened."

Tom nodded and brought his finger up to chew on his thumbnail, "He thinks it'll help my recovery if I have someone who I trust and who understands the situation there." He smiled grimly, "That I'll come to better terms."

"That's why you've grown so attached to Doug." Dennis concluded. 

"Tried to." Tom corrected. Booker looked up for clues and the younger man shrugged disappointingly, "He's been my best friend for years, I've known him longer than I've known you. But after the first time he found out, and I mean," Tom cleared up, "The very first time, when you weren't here -- he didn't really.. understand."

Dennis nodded along, not completely sure where this was going and selfishly wondering where he was tied into in all this. Tom continued, "Things changed. We aren't the same as we used to be. Like different people. He treats me like Tom but I don't think he actually knows who  _Tom_  is. Or was, for that matter.. But I thought maybe if it was like how we were, it'd all come rushing back and it would be like nothing ever happened."

"But it didn't." Booker spoke somberly. 

Hanson shook his head in grievance, "I didn't want you to be the one."

Although his heart felt like it was in ruins, Dennis asked boldly, "Why?"

"Because.." Tom started, his voice caught in dry holes, "Then things will change for us too. And I know I can live with me and Doug not being _exactly_  how we were but I couldn't if --" His voice caught, "Once I knew, I figured it was just knowledge." He lost Booker than and went on further, "You'll always know anyway, so I felt if I treated you like _Booker_ , you wouldn't feel like there was something missing. Like you lost out on anything."

Dennis jumped, "But what about you, Tommy?"

"Had to take care of you first," Tom looked up again with sorrowful eyes and and a miserable grin, "Learned that from the best." 

Booker stared into the eyes of man who was just on the edge of change, he could see the gleam of hope and light past the internal conflict and low self esteem. It was there, and he would strike now because he knew it hadn't been there before. He clapped his palms on his thighs with a small determined smile and got to his feet.

"Where you going?" Tom asked alarmingly. 

Dennis turned and saw the smallness of Hanson sitting, looking up at him for answers. Only a few months ago did he find Tom in his apartment, looking frail and wounded. Then he found Tom dusty from fire ash and bloodied from his final beating. Now, he saw studied Tom in his old body and form, with only his courage missing. It may have taken a long time to get to this point with an extraordinary amounts of ups and downs but the two men had conquered each battle thrown their way. Now they had to face their ultimate one, the final test. Once defeated, Dennis had no doubts that Tom would come back with the sun back in his pupils.

 _"We're_  going to get saved." 

The drive to the hospital was silent and filled with anticipation. Neither men spoke but the topic of conversation was obvious. 

What would Tom say, how would Dennis react? Would the therapist ask Booker questions, would he answer them? Where would they start, where would they finish? How would they get home, as lovers or strangers?

The questions rattled over like the end of snake's tail that when they pulled up the hospital, both men looked up with nervous laughs. You can talk big and go on all you want but when the time comes, you have to show and prove. That was Booker's philosophy. He knew what he had to do and he knew what he wanted to do. He just didn't understand why it had to feel so damn hard.

Soon they were waiting outside for the psychologist and therapist, Dr. James Matthews, but Tom had only referred to him as Doc. As a matter of fact, Hanson had treated the man like he would if he was a Mcquaid - Lack of interest and respect, just not nearly as blunt or obnoxious. 

But still waiting there, knowing he had to go in as Tom Hanson and not the protection of Tommy Mcquaid made the young man shiver with foreboding. Dennis felt it and gave him a reassuring grin but inside, he was just as petrified as Tom. 

He knew he had to keep his face straight and unwavering, he had to be confident and optimistic, and most importantly -- he had to be brave and strong for both him and Tom. The pressure and responsibility weighed heavy on the older man's shoulders and he briefly wondered if this was a smart move, until the door flew open and a hand curled at them to enter.

He rose unsteady on his feet and subconsciously dropped his hand, palm up for Hanson to take it. The smaller man did and they glided in with similar thoughts and fears.

The doctor was about the same height as Dennis, maybe a bit smaller. His hair must've been dark brown once upon a time but now had a few streaks of grey. Ironic, since he couldn't have been more than forty five. His face had a few wrinkles, at the tips of his eyes and across his forehead. He didn't look like an awful guy, he had sympathetic eyes and gentle smile. But after seeing how much evil there truly is in the world, both men were suspicious in their own separate minds.

"Ah," Dr. Matthews mused once he sat down in his leather chair, the same seat that gave Tom an unsettling feeling when they first met. He gestured for the two men to sit down and Booker noticed him glance at their joining hands, "I see you've brought someone." The young man immediately dropped his palm from Booker's.

"Dennis Booker." the older man introduced, standing tall to shake the man's hand before taking a seat next to his partner. 

Hanson slumped in his seat, sinking to the bottom with a stubborn expression on his face. Booker quickly saw how every session must have gone in the past in a matter of seconds. Tom waltzing in, looking glum and annoyed, giving one word answers, playing with his fingers for an hour or so, then rushing out the exit without a single feeling changed.

Dennis wanted to be disappointed with Tom's half ass attempt at redemption but then the Doctor went on, and Booker could see right away where Hanson was coming from.

"Is this the man you are staying with and whom you are having a sexual relationship?" He asked without a blink. Dennis was about to object to the specifics but the doctor stopped him, "Tom?" It was pretty frank and it made both men a bit squeamish. Being on the force, they knew about this kind of thing and the language the therapists use to help you. But still, it seemed so prying and nosey, made it hard to come unhinged and spill their blood willingly at his feet.

Tom took a deep breath. He promised himself, back at the station when they questioned Bruce, that he would give this his best shot. He would come forward, be honest and do as he was told. For Dennis at least, he owed him that much, "Yes." His face turned passive.

"So," The doctor said, leaning forward with intertwined fingers, "Are we going to have an actual session today, Tom, or are you wasting your.. _friend's_  time?" His tone reeked of authority and demand, and feeling Tom shudder next to him made Booker counter in defense.

"Hey, go easy on him. Its not a big deal."

The doctor glared over at the older man with superior eyes, "Excuse me Mr. Booker, but Tom is _my_  patient and I'll do my best to help him in the way _I_ see fit. If there is a problem --"

"There's no problem." Dennis interrupted, "But you don't have to blame him or come down on him like that."

Matthews looked insulted then, "I'm not blaming him at all, far from it. I'm merely trying to help Tom understand that he is an adult and he should take responsibility for his actions."

Dennis launched forward, "What actions?" He demanded, "Take responsibility for what? He didn't force me to come, I chose to go with him. He couldn't make me do anything if I didn't want to, believe me!" He confirmed willfully.

"I'm not saying he could." He glowered, "I'm only saying that --"

 _"STOP!"_  Tom shouted abruptly, his fingernails dug deep into the arm rests of the chair he sat in, "Stop arguing, please, for God's sake!" He turned to the side in his chair and dashed his eyes from the doctor to Dennis, "I want help, I'm trying to get help. This is my boyfriend Dennis Booker, we were together up until the time he got into a freak motorcycle accident after we had a fight. He was thrown into a temporary coma, that was also around the time I first got.. attacked. There were a few more after that, by the same man, that were consensual."

Tom rambled on in a rush and both men watched astonished, "When Booker recovered he came to see me, we had a fight, he stormed off, I went with the guy who attacked me to an abandoned place where he and his.. _people_ , violated me daily and drugged me up to cope with the abuse I was taking. I snapped at one of them in my unstable state and they attacked. They beat, whipped, and cursed at me until they set the place on fire and left me there to die."

Tears swelled in Booker's eyes as Tom spoke so candidly about his past, "Then he," Tom nodded to Booker lovingly, "He saved me."

He looked longingly at his lover until he remembered who he was speaking to and turned to face the doctor, "He got me healthy, clean, and better than he found me. He then sought out and captured one of the men involved and we are now in the process of finding them, and charging them."

The young man shuffled back in his seat and crossed his arms, "So stop your bickering because I  _have_  nightmares, I _can't_  feel, and to be honest, I'm fucking exhausted." He finished with a defeated breath.

Booker sat back with a small grin of pride on his face, while the doctor cleared his throat, "Alright. Let's get started then." He faced Tom outwardly and asked quietly, "We'll begin at the beginning: Dennis Booker, this man here, he is your lover?"

Hanson nodded surely and Booker waited patiently. He wouldn't upset Tom again and he would stay quiet unless a question was directed at him, "Okay, so I've gathered that you two have a past of fighting. Can you tell me about that?"

Tom unsettled himself and got into a comfortable protective position, with his leg propped up on his opposite knee and his hands locked around his ankles.

"We fight, so what, everybody fights."

"Do they ever get physical?" The elder man pushed.

A moment of silence came over the room as Tom recollected the times he struck Booker and the older man hit him back, "Yeah.. Sometimes."

"When do these times take place?"

Tom shrugged, "I don't know. There's tension in the house, tempers flare."

Booker eyed Hanson mentally questioning why the tone in Tom's voice suddenly fell dull. The doctor was aware as well, "Dennis." He chimed until the older man shifted his attention, "What are these altercations like for you?"

The older man leaned forward, a drone in his throat, "Umm.. well, sometimes I screw up and Tom isn't happy with me."

Hanson focused on the edge of the doctor's desk, ignoring the little eye glances Booker threw his way. Although, the younger man listened intently, "How do you screw up?" The doctor asked.

"I say things I don't mean, I betray his trust --"

"You betray his trust? That's not a very helpful thing to do for someone who is trying to help Tom reach full recovery."

The older man felt his frustration rising but he swallowed it down, "I know." He said ashamed, "I know it, I do. I'm trying real hard to do good by him and I slip up sometimes and I know that isn't an excuse, but I'm sorry." Strangely Booker found himself talking, openly with the man he had just had a heated argument with.

It came surprisingly easy, "I mean, I came home after what I think was an act to try and help him, and he socked me in the face! Maybe I shouldn't have let it go so far, should've calmed the situation down instead of continuing it. But its frustrating for me, too."

"After hearing the regret Dennis feels, how does this make you feel, Tom?" The doctor whirled his head to Hanson to looked up like a deer in headlights. 

"I don't know." He answered fast, bringing his thumb up to chew.

"Tom, you were doing so well. Don't go back on it now. We are here to help you, right?" He bowed his head to Booker who bobbed fiercely, "Let it out Tom, you can do this."

The idea danced in Hanson's head until he heard its truth, he sighed heavily and dropped his hand, "I guess it makes me feel guilty." He suggested. 

The doctor urged him on, "Yes, yes. Come on, a little more."

"I," Tom breathed again and looked all around the room except at the doctor and Dennis, "I feel like I fail him, a lot." No one spoke and Hanson took it as a comforting mark to go on, "I know he's trying to help me but I don't know if its worth it. I think I'm a lost cause and every time I make a little progress, he gets so excited.. and proud." He sniffled hot tears that threatened to form from his throat to his eyes, "Then I fuck up and the piece of shit I am ruins all his attempts and I feel like he hates me for it. And if he doesn't," He looked sadly over at Booker, "He should."

The older man stared in disbelief, Tom was healing. rapidly but his feelings involving Dennis were twisted. However there had been a point when Booker thought, subconsciously, Hanson wouldn't heal at all. And yet the man he loved beside him overcame the obstacles, against all odds. This was no different and Dennis knew they would rise out of it together, once more. 

~  _To be continued ~_


	40. Spill into Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First off -- I am so sorry I haven't been here in so long. I've had.. writer's block or extreme laziness but that's no excuse and i apologize. I get upset when reading a story only to find out its incomplete. I will do my best to say on task here.
> 
> Second -- I hope this chapter keeps you guys around.

As sessions went on, Tom began to speak more freely and emotionally about what he went through. They had conversations of why and when and how. Why Tom was always hot and cold in his relationship with Dennis. When this could have happened and how to fix it. How to go about doing so. They learned that Tom was afraid to be close to Booker and this evolved when Dennis accidentally strapped him down. They expressed feelings of sorrow and promise to get better and understand. But after hearing all Tom's fears and every single rape he went through, Dennis was too reluctant to do anything serious. Indulging his partner in quick kisses and friendly embraces, always excusing his lack of sexual appetite to exhaustion and stress over Tom's case. But Tom could hear him sneak into the bathroom in the morning when he thought Hanson was sleeping and stroke out his early morning erections. It all made Tom feel like a walking paradox. 

Wanting to be with the older man but not wanting to go too far, he felt like a giant tease and a world class asshole. But he also felt that it wasn't entirely his fault, that he was once again taking the blame for something that Booker had done wrong. The taller man promised the same promise as Tom and he wasn't holding up his end of the bargain as Hanson had. 

In therapy, however, a few times he had to ask Booker to look away while he discussed it or wait a bit before responding but other than that, Hanson was starting to grow back into his former self. Although this new feeling meant that he was more clearly aware of everything that happened, even the time when he was too foggy to remember the following day. 

"He gave me pills." He said suddenly on an air of confusion and realization. The three men hadn't talked for about five minutes as they always wait for the young man to start where his mind is. 

Booker wasn't sure if he knew about the so-called pills or not. He sat there, stiff as a rock with an expressionless cloak over his face. Tom had lied and hidden all sorts of things, things that could have helped prevented the aftermath of what happened to him, he should have confessed. Dennis wasn't really sure how he felt about anything. It all came like a blow of dry dusty air in his throat and no matter how many times he tried to shake it out, it still remained.

He learned the former officer allowed the main man to enter his apartment, unannounced, and sexually assault him because he couldn't bare feeling alone and dirty. It didn't make sense at first, why Hanson wanted an evil man to continue to abuse him for the pain _that same man_  left him with. But the doctor made the young man explain further, much to Booker's slight dismay. Tom elaborated that he needed to feel normal and forget the bad that lurked in his mind, so he turned to the man who was more gentler and kinder than he thought.

Dennis' pulse lurched under his skin as he got the sudden urge to slap Tom across the face. He wanted to scream and spit at him that he was being used, that the man was a cold hearted predator not some warm bubbly housewife. But he endured, silent and immobile. Now Tom was remembering drugs and Booker really didn't know if he could hang on for the entire hour, didn't even know if he could keep doing this.

"Tell us about the pills, Tom." The doctor pushed quietly. 

Hanson shifted in his seat and mumbled under his breath until he found his words, "They were little and blue.. After he'd come over, he would leave them on my pillow and tuck me in after I took them." He sighed softly, "Couldn't be able to remember what happened the day before. He gave me those when he took me away. But only a bit. He wanted me to his whore, not a drug addicted whore."

He chuckled bitterly, "Guess I should thank him for that." The doctor gave an understanding smile, he had read that Tom was free of toxins. It flushed out his system without any withdrawal, or backlash and Hanson was nearly perfect after his situation. There wasn't even any smoke in his lungs. All his injuries were strictly mental and emotional but the doctor felt that was best, except for the obvious bruises and cuts. The young man was getting better with every session and the therapist could see the old Tom Hanson he might have known in an earlier life.

The only issue was his emotional state, Tom was still holding things back and he knew why. He glanced for a second at Booker, understanding Hanson's caution towards his lover. 

The older officer was showing obvious signs of suppressed hurt. He hardly moved and when he did, it was sloppy and jerky. If he talked, it was through tight lips and clenched teeth, straight forward answers or indecisive responses. The doctor could see that he wanted to help Tom, but something was holding him back. Something he could only admit and fix himself. 

Dennis stealthily moved his right hand under his thigh to twist and pinch at his skin. He didn't want Tom to see how frustrating and sickening it was for him and he knew if he did, the doctor would jump at it. Booker sighed inaudible to himself, he loved Tom still and he isn't appalled by Hanson. It was more of the men and how quick they broke his lover down enough to make Tom so oblivious at the extent of his trauma.

"So you allowed the man,  _Master_ as you called him, to drug you and assault you. For sexual gratification?"

Tom nodded, "I understand how completely fucked up this sounds. But I needed it. And I know," The young droned off unsure for a second before taking a much needed deep breath, "I know if I admit everything here and now, I'll get better faster. I can feel it already. I'm more comfortable with confessing and I haven't felt more like myself in a long time. Like I'm back in control." He clenched and unclenched his fists for good measure. 

The doctor gave a small prideful smile, "That's great to here, Tom. I think you're road to recovery is moving along fairly well. You may even finish a lot sooner than we would've guessed with this new and approved attitude." Tom smiled shyly at the praise, "Now how did the pills make you feel, Tom?" 

He opened his mouth to, once again, speak candidly when he felt Dennis take a soft frustrated breath. No one else would have caught it but despite the circumstances, Tom was still a cop with sharp instincts and senses. The young man took a deep antagonized breath and cocked his head to the dark haired man who was deep in thought and pouting judgmentally. Tom could feel Booker's disgust, it started in the therapist office and followed them home. He could sense the hesitation to touch, reluctant answers to questions, and even the almost perfectly veiled expressions.

"How about we ask how _Booker_  feels?" He demanded with a base.

Dennis faced him sharply, "What?" 

"Don't fucking patronize me." Tom spat, "You sit there with your condescending attitude, judging me for something that wasn't my fault!"

"Whoa, Whoa gentlemen, I think we should calm --" The doctor stood slowly, raising a hand to soothe the budding argument. But he had never seen a fight between the two stubborn men and he didn't know that no matter what or who was around, they would continue and finish it.

"Me, ME?!" Dennis shouted with a jabbing finger in his own chest, " _I'm_  being condescending?!" He shot up and Tom followed soon, "It isn't easy for me to hear this shit, Tom!"

"So you lied." Hanson concluded in a near confidential thought, "It does bother you."

Dennis boomed powerfully, "OF COURSE IT BOTHERS ME! Are you kidding?" Booker asked rhetorically, "I know what you went through Tom and I'm not blaming you. Its just its, its - its hard!" He stumbled over his words, the adrenaline rushing in and out of his veins.

"You! YOU'RE the one who said I had to get help. YOU'RE the one who said you'd do _anything_ to help me. NO matter how hard! We've been through it all so now, now what's so hard about it?" Tom yelled unwavering.

"THE FACT THAT I DIDN'T SAVE YOU!" He screamed in his straining throat, that was croaking with intense tears now. Dennis slumped to the floor and brought the balls of his hands to smother the sobs. He felt Tom fall to his knees beside him and without a second thought, he roughly gripped Hanson into his embrace and wept softly, "I can't lose you again, Tommy, I can't!" He shivered with his hidden overwhelming emotions that never would have been exposed if Hanson never pushed him to. 

He held Tom tightly, and spoke over his head with a wet voice. Hanson didn't expect such an outcome with so much hurt and agony. He knowingly berated his lover to see his true feelings but did not think they would come from a place of shame and resentment, "I should've stopped him Tom, I should've fucking _ended_  him if you just told me. If you just asked him to come over while I was there, I - I,"

He cried helplessly but went on, needing to get whatever rock that was sunk into stomach out, "None of this should have happened. No one should have hurt you. I could have _DONE_  something." Dennis swallowed down the lump in his throat, "I should never have left you. I shouldn't have been driving so fast and gotten into that stupid fucking accident, I shouldn't have pressured you, I just shouldn't have left. Because if I had," He reach into his shoulder and pulled back the face that was dripping with residue as well, he eyed him intensely and spoke in a stuttering voice.

"You would be okay." He finished with another endless amount of tears, "You could have died, Tom." He whispered tragically, "I don't know what I'd do if that happened. I couldn't live with myself if you got killed, I would have, would have -- "

The younger man fell deeper into Booker's embraced and clenched the dark locks that tangled between his fingers cutting off the words Tom  _did not_  want to here, "I'm not dead, Dennis. I'm right here." He whispered back, "And no matter _what_  happened to me, whether I get better or not. I never," Hanson gripped Booker's hair to meet his stare, "I never want to see that look in your eye again. You do not get to hurt yourself because I fell. You got me?" He asked sternly. 

Booker sniffed, giving one nod, "Okay. Yeah, yeah, I got you."

They pulled each other tighter and closer to almost the point of suffocation. Because being unable to breathe in, to touch, feel, and see each other was a gift in itself. Like that stupid cliché -- _Everyday is a miracle_. But still, holding the man he fell in love with, what felt like a million years ago, and falling even more in love for the man he was becoming now -- Dennis thought, _Yes. Everyday is a miracle. And this, being close to Tommy with his permission and consent and secrets and fears, this was the only acceptable form of suffocation_. 


End file.
